


Be Near Me

by rivendellrose



Category: Hellboy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, rampant AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivendellrose/pseuds/rivendellrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trouble with getting what you want is that something unexpected almost inevitably comes out of it. If Abe actually reads fairy tales, he really should know better. </p><p>Technically resurrection-fic, but it's hard to expect less from a character who is basically the queen of Faerie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Leaving the BPRD had not been without unexpected inconveniences, particularly for Abe. It was all very well to make a grand dramatic gesture of resignation... but significantly less pleasant to suddenly find oneself without a home. Or, more to the point, the very large water tank required to keep one healthy, let alone comfortable. 

“We’ll rent a house,” Liz had suggested. “All of us together, that should work. I can communicate with the landlord - they don’t need to meet you, Red, and...”

“And I will sleep in the bathtub?” Abe suggested in a dry tone. His skin was dry, too - the exposed parts were starting to itch. 

Liz sighed. “We’ll think of something, Abe. I promise.”

The bathtub did indeed turn out to be the only viable solution, but at least the run-down old house they rented had two bathrooms, which cut down somewhat on the inevitable squabbling and inconvenience. Abe was even able to have some peace when Liz and Hellboy were out. Their absence could also cause problems, however, such as... someone knocking on the door. Quietly, but insistently. And refusing to leave after a suitable interval.

Abandoning his book on the sink in the bathroom, Abe crept downstairs to the door. The curtains in the living room and dining room on either side of the entryway effectively blocked the outside from looking in, but the door was another matter. He raised his hand cautiously to it, reaching out to ‘see’ what was on the other side. A familiar presence waited. Female, but it was not Liz. She was nervous, and... 

Abe blinked rapidly and hurried to open the door. The figure on the porch was draped in a heavy dark blue cloak, but even before she lifted her face to him he was certain of her identity. He could not have mistaken the mind that had lingered so much in his memories in the past months. 

“Nuala?”

“Abraham!” She almost threw herself over the threshold, grabbing hold of his hands as though she would be carried away on a current if she did not anchor herself. “I was afraid I would not find you.”

"But...” Abe blinked and tilted his head, confused. “Nuala, you are _dead_."

Nuala just smiled. "You have all those books you showed me... do you not read them? I was needed, so I was called back."

Abe thought about this, somewhat stunned. He extricated one hand from her grasp so that he could shut the door and locked it, and then turned back to Nuala, who was already shaking out her wet cloak and hanging it over railing of the stairs. Abe had never before felt self-conscious of how shabby their house looked, but now every detail stood out to him - the slanted floors whose boards were worn with age, the coats and clutter thrown over the single threadbare sofa in the living room, the pile of junk mail heaped on the floor beside the staircase... What must she think of him, living in a place like this? "I"m flattered, Nuala, and very pleased, but..." 

She shook her head, stopping him with a pale hand. "I’m afraid I didn’t mean you, Abraham. My people needed me. They called me back from the lasting rest, to bring an end to factions fighting for my father’s throne. My family has ruled for as long as anyone can remember, but there are others among the noble families of the court who believe they might do better - particularly where dealings with the Human world are concerned." 

"But if they need you..."

"Then why am I here?" Nuala's smile broadened, and her golden eyes sparkled in the dim light of the entryway. "Because you were kind. Because you nearly sacrificed the world for me, and when I touched your mind I felt more at home than I ever have before. And because even a princess may, on occasion, value her heart above her duty, if only for one night. Tonight, after the ceremony that brought me back... I feel alive, Abraham, for the first time in so very long. I wanted to be with you, to share that." And with that she reached up and pulled him down to her, into a kiss. 

Abe had seen Humans kiss. It was impossible not to have, given Red's obsession with television... But he had always regarded it, along with smiling, as something fundamentally unsuited to his physiology. It turned out that he was not entirely right about that. Although the kiss was tentative and a bit uncertain, they nonetheless managed to make matters work, and after a moment’s confusion he discovered that her warm lips felt glorious against his. He wondered how Humans, lacking gills, managed to go so long without taking a full breath - even his knees felt weakened by the experience. 

After that, it was not hard to guess why exactly Nuala might have gotten the idea of coming to him.

“Nuala...” 

"Where do you sleep?" she murmured as she stroked delicate fingers lightly over his chest. 

"In... er..." Abe gestured awkwardly up the stairs. “In the bathtub.” 

Nuala tilted her head to look up the stairs, considering this solemnly. “I suppose there must be some way...” she began.

“I am not sure that is wise, Nuala.”

She turned back to him with an impish smile. “Abraham, there is no need to be so shy. I may appear young, but I assure you, the Human lifespan is the falling of a petal compared to my people. You needn’t worry - I have had some experience with... sexual pleasure,” she said delicately.

Abe could not quite stop himself from wincing in embarrassment. “I have not.”

“Ah... I see.” Nuala perched on the arm of the sofa, regarding him with a thoughtful look. “I admit, I had not expected that.”

“Humans... are not generally interested in creatures who are unlike them.”

“My people have never found that to be true.” Nuala smoothed her skirt. “And your friend Liz certainly has no such compunctions... To my eyes, at least, you are more like the Humans than your demon-friend could ever be.” 

“Red and Liz have a... unique relationship,” Abe allowed. 

“And a fertile one, it seems, if my memory of our last encounter serves... But we are getting off subject and, kind though they have been to me, I did not come here to talk about your friends. I came to be with you. If you prefer, I suppose we could just... read poetry to each other, but I had hoped for a more interesting reunion...?”

“It’s not that I don’t... that is, I... hope you will forgive me for asking, but are you quite sure this is what you want, Nuala?”

Her eyes narrowed, and for an instant he was sure that he had insulted and angered her with his presumption - hardly, from literary precedent, a wise move when dealing with a member of the royal court of the Elf-Lands. Then she shook her head. “Abraham, I was dead a short time ago. I would not do anything just now that is not in line with my heart’s dearest desires. And just before I died, I saw you betray everything... your friends, your whole world, just because you feared for me and wanted to keep me safe. You were terribly foolish to do that, by the way.”

“I am sorry, Nuala. But I could not allow--”

“I know.” She touched his face, and he leaned against the warmth of her palm. “Remember, you gave me that - all that you felt - just before I died. And I know, too, because I would do the same for you. I love you, Abraham. And I want to be with you, here, for this one night.”

“But...”

Nuala stopped him with one finger over his lips. “No. Do you want me?”

“Of course, but I--”

“Then stop fighting it. We will manage.”

“I am not certain--”

“I am.” Nuala grabbed his hand, then, and laced her fingers with his. The instantaneous psychic connection between the two of them nearly took his breath away, and he felt his gills flutter with shock. The feelings... the _images_ , that she was projecting! Would he disappoint her?

“You will not.” She answered the unspoken question with quiet authority. 

It was hazardous, he realized, spending time around another being who could read minds through touch. 

“I promise that you’ll soon be too distracted to worry about that,” Nuala assured him. 

She led him by the hand up to the bathroom, and kissed his neck and shoulders while he ran a deep bath. At first, he wanted to warn her away from his gills, but before he could find his voice, Nuala licked the delicate edge of skin. The sensation sent unexpected shivers down his spine. 

“Is that all right?”

He nodded. He seemed to have forgotten how to speak. 

Nuala smiled at him and bent over to check the temperature of the water. “You weren’t teasing me when you said you haven’t done this before, were you?” she asked, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

Abe shook his head, blinking at her in astonishment. 

“Take my hand, then.” 

He followed her instruction, and felt a wash of emotion pass through him as soon as their palms touched. Desire - she genuinely wanted him, and couldn’t imagine why he was so hesitant. Amusement rippled through her thoughts, as well, and affection enough that he felt almost guilty for assuming that the strength of his own attraction to her couldn’t possibly be reciprocated. More than anything else, her certainty - her confidence in her own desire - filled their link, and he could not help but be calmed somewhat by it.

“Better?” she murmured against the skin of his wrist, nuzzling the smooth, slightly damp flesh. 

“For now?” he offered.

Nuala laughed. “Into the water with you, then, Abraham. I will not have you drying out, even for my sake.”

“I can survive out of water for--”

“Not now, Abraham. In the water. We can try playing in the dry air later. For your first time, you should be comfortable.”

He started to climb into the tub, and was embarrassed when Nuala stopped him with a hand on his hip. 

“We might want to lose the clothing, Abraham,” she reminded him with a gently teasing smile.

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” 

She waited patiently while he stripped off the trousers, and then smiled. “Beautiful,” she pronounced.

“Aren’t you...?” He hesitated. Nuala was still completely clothed, but perhaps this was some sort of taboo, or... a standard practice that he was unaware of? Apart from dry clinical books and a few illustrated Victorian tomes he’d stumbled on and found frankly shocking, the BPRD library had been largely silent on the subject of overt sexuality.

“In good time,” she promised. “I told you, I prefer for you not to dry yourself out, first.” 

He dutifully climbed into the tub, and then tilted his head at her, curious as to what exactly she had planned. Nuala made quick work of removing her gown, draping it over the nearby towel-rack, and stepped easily into the water over him.

“Are you still afraid?” she asked gently, as she stroked arcane symbols over the smooth skin of his chest and stomach. 

“No,” he admitted. 

“Good.”

* * *

They lay stretched out in the bath, later - Abe dangling his legs somewhat awkwardly out of the bottom of the tub, too languid to tuck them back in, and Nuala curled on top of him, her head rested comfortably on one arm stretched over the side of the tub, watching Abe. A contented smile tugged at her lips, and her free hand dipped into the water, still tracing lazy circles that tickled his skin. 

“I should go back,” she murmured. “To my people. They will be waiting for me.”

“Of course.” Abe blinked up at her through the water. “I didn’t mean to keep you...”

“I should hope you did,” she teased. “I certainly meant to keep you. And mean to, still, for as long as I may...”

“You know that is not what I meant.”

She smiled and bent underwater to kiss his forehead, at which he shifted, scooting up in the tub so that he could lean his back against the side and be closer to her. _Will you come back?_ Abe asked.

_When I can._

He sought in her mind. _But that will not be often._

 _It will be as often as I can make it, Abraham, I promise you. But my father is dead, and my people need a leader. If royal blood is not available, the factions will war... and we are too few, now, for that to..._ Suddenly, she tensed, like a bird preparing for flight, her eyes going wide. _Someone is coming._

Abe sat up out of the water, trying to hear whatever had warned her. “Your brother?”

“No. Your friends.” Nuala climbed awkwardly out of the tub and grabbed her gown. “Elizabeth and Anung--... and Hellboy,” she amended, apparently remembering the team’s aversion to Hellboy’s proper name.

“Oh. Oh dear.” While certainly preferable to the reappearance of Nuala’s twin, the thought of Red and Liz discovering him and Nuala here in a state of obvious undress was embarrassing in the extreme. If nothing else, Red would tease him for weeks. Abe scrambled out of the bathtub as well, stumbling on stiff, slightly numb legs. 

“Abe? That you up there?” 

“It’s me!” he shouted back, frustrated with how flustered his voice sounded. “I’m fine, I... slipped.”

“You’ve got to watch it on that tile,” Liz shouted back. “If you hurt yourself, I don’t know where we could take you.”

“I’m fine!” he repeated, casting a desperate and slightly panicked look at Nuala, who was watching him with apparent amusement as she struggled with the folds of her gown. Liz’s voice was getting closer, and he could hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Are you out, then?” Liz called. “I need the bathroom.”

“Er... you can’t. I... used all the hot water. I’m sorry,” he added, helpless as Nuala covered her mouth to keep from giggling. 

“ _All_ of it? Abe, our bills are bad enough as it is...” 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Fine, whatever. Just get out, I have to pee, and Red’s in the downstairs bathroom.”

“Er...”

“ _Pregnant_ , remember, Abe? Bladder being squashed by two half-demon fetuses? Come _on!_ ”

“I’m - I’m not dressed,” he stammered in a panic.

“Then cover up with a towel, for god’s sake! What on earth can you possibly be so--” The door snapped open, and Liz stopped in the doorway and jumped back as though burned by the threshhold. “What the _hell?_ ”

Abe followed her gaze. Nuala had managed to pull on her gown and tuck it around herself in a decently modest arrangement, but her white hair was still dripping, and the fabric had been wettened in several places in her rush, causing it to cling to her in a... rather distracting manner. He forced his eyes away and back to Liz, who was still waiting for an explanation.

“Nuala... is not dead,” Abe offered. He felt as though his mind had been wrung out and dried. 

“I can see that,” Liz replied. “Uh... congratulations? I don’t mean to seem unhappy you’re back, but... doesn’t this mean your brother...?”

“Is alive as well, yes. He is... being dealt with. I hope.” Nuala looked slightly nervous. “There may be difficulty, but I believe that my people will prove up to the task.”

“Your... Right. Okay. Um... Abe, next time? Just... just tell me what’s happening. I’m assuming there’s going to be a next time. But... for now...” She motioned them to the door with flapping gestures. “We can talk more later. Or whatever. Just - out.”

“Out,” Abe agreed, grabbing a towel and wrapping it discreetly around his waist as they left the bathroom. 

“I should go,” Nuala repeated once the door was shut behind them. 

“Come back when you can? When you are able...” Abe trailed off. He’d felt the hopelessness in Nuala’s mind when they spoke about the future, earlier - she did not really expect to have very much time for him, now that she was ruling her father’s kingdom, and he could hardly fault her for that. “I will miss you,” he finished lamely. 

“’ _I cannot love thee as I ought_ ,’” Nuala quoted. Abe couldn't help being a bit impressed despite the situation - as far as he knew she'd only read Tennyson's "In Memorium" once, the first night they met, and the part she had read aloud had been a very different section of that long piece. “I cannot make promises, either," she continued, "but I will try... And I will miss you, as well.” She caught his hand, pressing her palm to his for a moment. _There will be a time, I think... but it may be a long while yet._

 _I’ll wait for you_ , he promised.

She folded her heavy cloak around herself, and looked back at him with a soft, sad expression in her eyes. “Goodbye, Abraham.”

When she slipped out the door, she looked like a phantom - a trick of the moonlight in the shadows, there for an instant, and then gone. Abe stayed for a moment by the door, hoping foolishly that he would hear her return, and then turned away.

* * *

 

* Ninety Days Later *

It had taken less than three months for Liz, Red, and Abe to reluctantly agree that returning to the BPRD was the best possible decision for all of them. Red had taken it hardest - it hurt his pride to have to go back, and wounded him to know that he couldn’t live the outside life that he’d always dreamed of, but especially as Liz’s pregnancy began to show more and more, they could no longer pretend that the outside world wasn’t hazardous for them. Abe was guiltily relieved to have his tank back, and even Red admitted that he’d missed his old room. 

Abe had resumed his old habits, floating comfortably in his tank, listening to music while reading a few books, when one of the newer BPRD agents walked into the library. 

“Delivery for you, sir,” the agent informed him stiffly. 

“For me?” 

The agent nodded. “The... er... _messenger_ insisted on giving it to you alone. I told him you were indisposed, but...”

A very large and rather surly-looking troll - was there any other kind, Abe wondered? - stepped out of the doorway behind the agent and fixed Abe with a glare that he supposed was meant to be not entirely threatening so much as... a warning, perhaps? “Queen Nuala said give package only to Abraham Sapien,” it growled. 

“All right... One moment, please.” Abe swam quickly to the other side of the tank and clambered out, his mind racing. Nuala would have come herself, if she could, but perhaps she was too busy - perhaps there was something important happening and she needed their help again. Or, less pleasantly, perhaps this troll was only pretending to work for Nuala, and was actually one of her brother’s servants. At this thought, Abe strapped on his utility belt and checked to make sure that the gun was loaded before stepping out into the main part of the library. 

“Delivery,” the troll repeated when it saw him.

“You mentioned,” Abe acknowledged. “Do I need to sign for it?”

The troll nodded and held out a scroll of parchment and a scruffy, strangely dangerous-looking black quill. “Here,” it grunted, indicating a series of sigils followed by a line. “If you not who you say, this show it,” it warned in a tone indicating it sincerely hoped this would be the case. “And then I eat.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you on that,” Abe informed the troll as calmly as he could manage, and carefully signed his full name to the page. 

The troll snatched the parchment back from him as soon as he’d finished the last stroke, and held it up close to its face, eyeballing the parchment with grave interest. Apparently it did not give the result that he hoped for. “Huhn. Okay,” it grumbled at last. “You take package now.”

Although the troll had consistently referred to its burden as a ‘package,’ Abe had honestly expected something quite small - a letter, most likely, with perhaps a bundle of related papers. Or perhaps a small trinket of some kind, a souvenir to say ‘thank you for the memories, but I have a very busy life, now, and am expected to marry someone of my own species.’ Whoever he was, her consort would no doubt be tall and blond, and have nothing in his appearance that reminded one of a fish.

What Abe had _not_ expected was for the troll to unfold its cloak and remove what Abe had previously thought was a hump on its back, unwinding dark silk wrappings to reveal a huge, hollow globe of glass nested in gold filigree. Within the glass...

“Holy mother of god,” murmured the young agent, whose presence Abe had entirely forgotten until that moment. “What _are_ those things?”

“You signed, I give, you take. Are yours. I done here,” the troll grunted in a disapproving tone. It set the globe down on the large library table, then turned and lumbered out of the room without so much as a glance back at them. 

“Abe? What the hell is going on out here?” Liz, wrapped in a dark burgundy bathrobe, appeared at the inner door to the library with Red behind her. “Was that a _troll_ that just left?”

“Yes...”

“Abe? Are you okay? Did it attack you? What... Abe! Snap out of it!” Liz waved her hand in front of his face. “What happened?”

“And what’s with the giant fishbowl full of...” Red trailed off, leaning over the glass. “What the hell is this, anyway?”

Inside the glass, suspended in water, hung five perfect globes of amber jelly. At the center of each smaller globe, a shape about the size of one of Abe’s fingers curled in on itself. Abe smoothed his palms over the glass globe, and looked up in wonder at his friends. “The troll was a messenger, making a delivery. And these... are eggs.”

“So... you finally discovered internet grocery shopping?” Red hazarded. 

“ _My_ eggs,” Abe snapped, surprised at the strength of his own response to the unknowing insult. “Nuala sent these to me. I... it appears I am a father.”


	2. Chapter 2

Abe found the note much later, after carefully pouring the five eggs into his tank and watching, fascinated, as they bobbed lightly just below the surface. They looked like little lanterns, he thought - their amber color and glassy sheen made them seem to glow. Five perfect little lives, encased in delicate amber jelly... He had looked down at the glass globe they’d arrived in, and saw a slip of gold embedded at the bottom. The writing etched on it was ancient and arcane, but after a bit of quick research he managed to decipher it. 

_Abraham_ , it read. _My love goes with this precious package, and my apologies. I told you some time ago that a princess may, on occasion, choose her heart above her duty. The same is not true, I am sorry to say, of a new queen. I know that you will care for our children with all the love in your noble heart, and that they will be safer with you than they would with me. I will send word when I can, and come to you again as soon as I dare. Take care. My brother is held safe and far away, but he still has agents in my court, and I fear they might harm the children if they knew of them. All my love, and all my hope for the future, are with you, always. - Nuala._

“So she just... expects you to take care of _five_ babies? Without any warning? Just like that?” Leaning over the tank to look at the floating cluster of eggs, Liz looked appalled. Abe noticed that her right hand cradled her own belly, growing every day with the twins she’d unexpectedly conceived with Red. Accidental parenthood was a particularly personal subject to Liz, at the moment.

“It seems we have no other choice,” Abe responded. He swam a lazy circle around the eggs as he spoke, nudging back toward its siblings one which seemed inclined to wander. 

“But she’s their _queen_. Can’t she just... order everyone to accept them?”

Even Liz didn’t seem particularly convinced by that argument, but Abe responded to it nonetheless - it was a fair question, after all, and one that Manning, too, had raised. “Some of her court are undoubtedly still loyal to Prince Nuada. Since his claim to the throne equals hers, there is still the possibility of rebellion or a _coup d'etat_. The children could be a powerful weapon against Nuala if they were raised in the Elven court, and they would be in constant danger from rival factions. They will be safe here, out of reach of the Elves and their kindred.”

“What about your job, then? You’ve hardly left the tank since they arrived!”

Abe stopped circling and floated directly below Liz, watching her intently. “Are you planning to go on missions up until you go into labour? And immediately after?” he asked. 

Liz frowned. “I would if... If I could, I... It’s different!”

Abe blinked, and nodded. “I agree. It seems, to me, that this arrangement is more egalitarian. Nuala carried our children for the first three months. I will watch over them until they have hatched and are old enough to be left with a caregiver.”

“But... what about us?” Liz asked, her eyes strangely dark and wide. 

Abe had wondered if that was what this argument came down to. “I am still here, Liz.” He swam over to the edge where she sat, and pulled himself up onto the steps to sit beside her. “I will still work - I will do the research and fact-checking as I have always done. I will simply do it from here. I have already applied with Agent Krauss and Manning for a temporary leave from field activity, effective immediately.” He touched her hand lightly, careful not to drip water on her sleeve. “I will still be here for you and Red, Liz. You are my friends. And I will need all the help I can get, it seems, once... they have hatched.” He gestured at the floating eggs. 

“You’re stealing all my thunder, you know,” Liz grumbled. “All that sympathy I'd planned on getting for having twins, and now you’ve gone and had... what’s the word for five babies, anyway?”

“Quintuplets.” Abe inclined his head in recognition of her comment. “Of course, I suppose you could say the difficult part has already been handled for me...”

“They’re little,” Liz shrugged. “And kind of squishy-looking. Also, not likely to have _horns._ ”

Abe thought about this, reading Liz’s genuine concern through her attempt at a joke. “In most species,” he said lightly, “horns don’t appear until well after birth.”

“Yeah, well... half-demons had damned well better be the same, that's all I'm saying.”

“I am almost certain that will be the case,” Abe assured her, patting her hand fondly. He was relieved to feel some of the tension go out of her as he did, and to sense her mind settling back to a calmer rhythm. 

“So... do you have any ideas on what you’ll name them? I thought it was hard enough coming up with _two_ names Red and I could agree on...”

“Nuala seems to have been prepared for that, as well,” Abe commented. “I cannot explain it, but the first time I touched each of the eggs, I knew their names. It was as if she had imprinted them somehow.”

Liz laughed softly. “She’s not leaving anything to chance in this, is she? She might not be such a bad queen after all...”

“I am sure--”

“I was joking, Abe. So... tell me. Or, can you tell from here?” she added. They all looked like eggs to her - round and squishy - but maybe they looked different to him.

Abe looked at her as though slightly embarrassed, and then leaned down, pointing out one egg after another. “There are two girls - Neasa, and Niamh. The rest are boys - Alastar, Aodh, and Aedan” 

“She gave them your initial. And the girls hers. That’s... so cute it almost makes me sick.” 

Abe ducked his head. “Yes, well... I expect it might be something to do with tradition. Or something of that sort, anyway. I find it all a bit embarrassing, but... if it was important enough to her that she took the trouble of making sure I would know...”

“Then you’ll go along with it.” Liz sighed. “Doing things you’re really not sure of because they’ll make the other person happy. Welcome to being in love, Abe.”

Abe nodded, gazing thoughtfully into the tank. “It... doesn’t seem so terrible.”

“That’s what’s so insidious about it,” Liz said. “It sneaks up on you, and by the time you realize you’ll have to reorganize your whole life to make it fit, it’s too late. You’re already hooked.” 

Abe’s eyes didn’t move from the cluster of amber globes bobbing gently in the water. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said softly. “It’s... wonderful.”

* * *

It wasn’t always wonderful, of course, as Abe soon discovered. Manning was no more happy about Abe taking a paternity leave than Liz had initially been, and didn’t settle down nearly as quickly... nor did Red, who set onto an epic-sized sulk when he realized that he would soon be going on all his missions with only Krauss and the normal agents for company. Abe and Liz, at least, were able to bond over the frustrations of attempting to baby-proof their respective areas - Red could only grumble and fuss about the rapidly decreasing number of places he was allowed to smoke, and the increasing emphasis both of his friends placed on cleanliness and order, particularly in regards to anything sharp or potentially poisonous.

In her time, Liz gave birth to a healthy and rambunctious pair of twins who, as predicted, only began to grow horns a few months _after_ their arrival in the outside world. Red voluntarily gave up on cigars after that, except the occasional indulgence out on the grounds and - as Abe had predicted - took to fatherhood with enthusiasm if not actual skill. Shortly thereafter, fully six months after their arrival at the BPRD, the eggs hatched. All five were healthy, alert, and took to floating immediately, which was a relief to their worried father. 

Eventually, Manning was forced to yield under the combined arguments of his whole team, strenuously led by Liz, Red, and Abe, and hired an on-call nanny for all the children... complete with high-level government clearance and a generous background in comparative biology. As far as the background in biology was concerned, Abe felt fairly sure that it was likely to be more of a comforting idea than a practical help - leaving aside the fact that Liz and Hellboy’s children were half-demon, even _he_ wasn’t sure what to expect from his children’s physiology, so how could anyone else do better? Although they had been comfortable in the water from birth, all five of his children had to surface occasionally for air - their gills, it seemed, were not strong enough to do _all_ their breathing for them. Beyond that, the amount of time they could stay under the surface seemed to vary considerably - from Aodh and Niamh, who surfaced most frequently, to Alastar, who could stay underwater longest of all of them, despite a strikingly elvish appearance and the palest blue skin of the whole troop. 

On their first birthday, Abe returned to full-time active duty. No troll waited for him with a letter or package when he returned to the office, however, and as grateful as he was that the children appeared to have escaped the notice of the court, he did wonder whether they had likewise slipped their mother’s mind somehow. His uncertainty didn’t escape his friends’ attention.

“Still no sign of her royal majesty, huh?”

“She is very busy, I am sure,” Abe informed Hellboy lightly. 

“Sure. Sure.” Hellboy shook his massive head, and stuck his finger into the tank to allow the curious and playful Neasa to teethe affectionately on him. “All I’m sayin’ is, we’ve all got responsibilities that get in the way of raising the kids. If it were someone else’s problem... if I’d left Liz holding the bag, say, would you be as willing to forgive me?” 

Abe looked out across the library to where Liz chatted with the nanny, one of the twins on her hip while the other played with blocks on the floor at her feet. Aodh crawled nearby, watching his slightly older erstwhile playmate with curiousity.

“The situation is different,” Abe said. 

”Sure it is, buddy.” But the look Hellboy gave him indicated that he thought it wasn’t at all, and Abe had to admit, if only to himself, that he did wonder.

As time went by, he didn’t stop wondering. The children’s second, and then their third birthdays passed, and he wondered if something terrible had happened - if there had been a _coup_ , if Nuala’s brother had regained control of the court, or if perhaps she had even been killed. Would he know? The supernatural activity that the BPRD investigated did not seem to have either increased or decreased, nor changed in character in any way, but was that truly a sign that all was well? Nuada’s power in exile had grown under their noses, and they’d only noticed when he moved his war into the public, Human world. Then again, perhaps nothing drastic had happened - perhaps Nuala had simply forgotten him, and their children with him. The lore of the fairy world was full of tales of humans stolen to raise or suckle Elf children, and of Elf children left with Humans to replace a stolen Human child. Perhaps Elves were different in the way they cared for their offspring. It was hard for Abe to imagine Nuala not caring about their children, but without any way of knowing, Abe could only give up wondering, and raise them as well as he could on his own. 

And so, time passed. Thirteen years of time. And still, he heard nothing...

* * *

Far below the city in the court chambers below the Troll Market, Nuala half-listened as a group of two-headed fungus-pixies argued among themselves about whether or not to accept the terms of a new treaty being offered to them by the blue fairies. Hunting rights in the sewers and parks, freedom to use some of the lower nests in the Troll Market... Nuala sighed, her quill scratching idly in the corner of a piece of parchment. A fat little hand took shape in the dark blue ink... an arm... up to a curving shoulder and tiny, delicate gills...

The shrieking of the fungus-pixies reached a fever pitch, and then stopped abruptly, as one - identical to the others in every way, as far as Nuala could tell - stepped forward and bowed. “We agree to the conditions offered.”

“Good. I’m very pleased.” Nuala pulled the charter over the parchment she’d been scribbling on and sat back to allow the blue fairies to land on the page and carefully scribble their assent to the terms. Their main emissary signed with a finger dipped in the ink, and then stepped aside graciously to allow the spokes-fungus to crawl up and carefully print his two-fingered palm in the ink and onto the parchment in his own space. Nuala signed with a flourish and her official seal, and sent them on their way... and then lifted the charter so that she could look at the scrap of parchment she’d been sketching on. A small, round shape in blue on the pale surface, with gills and wide, innocent eyes...

 _My children._

More than a year had passed in the fairy world since she’d sent them away to Abraham’s care, and at last she was beginning to think that her reign might be stable enough to bring them home. Or at least to see them, and allow them to be known to her people. The court was never a particularly safe place for children in general, but children of the royal blood, at least, would have the protection of all the sworn guards of the court, and even the very foolish knew better than to challenge them. Now that the feud between the fungus-pixies and the blue fairies was through, that was the end of open warfare among the peoples ruled by the court, and what little in-fighting there had been at the beginning of her reign seemed to have died down... Yes, soon it would be safe enough. Soon. If she sent a message to Abraham that evening, perhaps he would be willing to bring the children for a visit on the spring equinox, in a week’s time...

“Your Highness?”

“Yes?”

The chamberlain’s twig-like fingers steepled, and he bowed his head. “Your Highness, if you would grant this humble personage the benefit of your attention for just a few moments of your precious time--”

Nuala sighed. “What is it, Chamberlain?”

He blinked rapidly, and then bowed, his fingers fluttering. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but... bad news. It is terrible news, I fear.”

“More trolls fighting in the market?” If that was the case, Nuala thought, she could forget her hopes of peace...

“Ah... no, Highness. I’m afraid this news concerns your... er... royal brother. And his whereabouts.” The chamberlain folded his hands over his chest as though hoping to ward off attack. 

“What... do you mean?” Nuala asked, covering her drawing with a shaking hand. 

“His current location, Highness.”

“I am aware of what the word ‘whereabouts,’ means, Chamberlain. I’m asking you what you mean by it! My brother was locked in a casket of solid silver, buried at the foot of a new oak sapling, and then our best sorcerers enchanted that tree to grow a hundred years' time in one night and engulf his casket safely in its roots and trunk! There should _be_ no question of his whereabouts!” 

“Ah, yes.” One long, spindly finger lifted into the air. “Unfortunately, Your Highness, last night the Humans knocked down that tree and broke it open with their iron machines. The Humans in question are dead. Your brother... has escaped.”

“No... No, that can’t be. Not now, he’ll ruin everything, he’ll...” Nuala glanced at the chamberlain out of the corner of her eye. _He’ll go after Abraham and the children_. But she had taken great care to let no one but her closest friend in the court and a few of her trusted guards know of her children, and although Nuada himself knew of Abraham, her feelings for him, and the children, thanks to their bond, the chamberlain knew nothing of them. All her life he had served her father loyally, and he had served her equally well since her own ascension, but... still she doubted. There was no love lost between the chamberlain and her twin, she knew, but might not his loyalty to the royal house of Bethmoora extend just as much to Nuada as to herself? Best to be safe, and not confide in him until she could be sure. 

To further that deceit, she shook her head as though coming to a decision about a thought that had stopped her. “He will go among the Humans. He will bring us to war with them again, just as he did before. My brother’s thirst for vengeance is insatiable.” 

“As you say, Your Highness.” The chamberlain bowed again. 

“Guards.” 

Three of the black-masked raven guards stepped forward and bent at her side. 

“Double the patrols around the court, and send spies to seek my brother in his usual hideaways. If you find him, bring him here - but be sure to bind him first, with chains as strong as you can find. Chamberlain, send to the goblins, and tell them we will need a chain made - not of iron, but of greater strength than anything they’ve provided us with in the past. A troll must not be able to break it. _Three_ trolls must not be able to break it. I will see this done right this time.”

Both accepted their orders, and - the raven guards silent as always while the chamberlain nattered his usual endless chatter - bowed out of Nuala’s chamber. She waited, then, and counted to thirteen before ringing the bell for her personal aide, Boann. In only a moment, the other woman entered the chamber, bowed, and knelt at her queen’s side. As with most of the court, Nuala had known Boann all her life - a tall, fierce warrior and noble knight, ever loyal to King Balor while he was alive. The long war with the Humans had scarred her - physically as well as emotionally, leaving a long gash cut down her left cheek and the contorted, burned-out hole where that eye had once been. But when Nuada had gone away, she had stayed with Nuala and accepted her king’s decree that the peace was to be kept, despite her personal feelings about the Humans. For that reason, and for a friendship they had shared when they were young, Nuala had chosen the other woman as her closest confidant since the beginning of her own reign.

“My lady?” Boann touched Nuala’s shoulder lightly, her pale brow furrowed. “You look upset. What’s wrong?”

“Boann, I need you to run an important errand for me, immediately. It’s dangerous, and I know that it will be difficult for you to understand, but I know of no other I can trust with it. Will you do this for me?”

Boann frowned, her dark green eyes searching Nuala’s, but she nodded. “Of course, my lady. Anything. What is it?”

“Good. Listen carefully, for I dare not write my directions or draw you a map.” Closing her eyes so that she could imagine the journey, Nuala described the path Boann would have to take to get to the BPRD headquarters and, once inside, to the library. “Stay to the underground as long as you can, but the last stretch you must take on the surface, and when you get there you must slip in unnoticed if you can. I do not think you will have difficulty,” she added, feeling slightly bitter as she remembered the ease with which Nuada had slipped through their defenses. “If you are caught, say you are a messenger from me, and ask to be taken to Agent Sapien.”

“Agent... Oh. Your...” Boann cut herself off. “Forgive me, Highness - it is none of my business.”

Nuala sympathized with her old friend - she herself hardly knew what to call Abraham. He was her lover, yes, and the father of her children, but they could not yet be together, and those children could not yet officially be recognized. If she could, she would have taken him for her official consort - he could never be king beside her, her people would never accept that - but... but that would be a choice for safer times, should those times ever come. “The one I’ve told you about,” Nuala agreed, sparing Boann’s sense of propriety by leaving the exact relation unspoken. “Tell him who you are, and give him this.” She removed a small brooch from her clothing - nothing extravagent, nothing that would draw attention, but to Abraham’s senses she hoped it would carry her memory and her intent. “Tell him that my brother has been freed, and that he must take great care from now on. I had hoped that he might soon be able to bring our children here, but...”

“Your children? Here?” Boann’s eyes widened. “But... my lady... strangers, here in the court?”

“They are my children,” Nuala pointed out sternly.

“Of course, my lady. I didn’t mean... forgive me.” Boann schooled her features to stoic acceptance, accepted the brooch and tucked it carefully into her robes, her eyes lowered. “Is there anything else?”

It was Nuala’s turn to hesitate, now. Her private nature chafed at the thought of sending such personal thoughts through a messenger, but it had been so long since they’d seen each other... “Yes,” she admitted. “Tell him that I love him, and that I miss him deeply. Tell him to keep hope, if he can, and if he cannot... to remember me well.”

“If you believe he could forget you, my lady--” Boann began in a scathing tone.

“Humans are different from us, and although he is not Human, Abraham has lived his life among them. I don’t doubt him, but... our worlds are very different, after all, and it will never be easy for us to be together.” Nuala squeezed her hand. “My dear friend. Thank you. Take care, and be safe. All my hope goes with you.”

* * *

Boann bowed once more, backed out of the room, and hurried away into the darkness. The tunnels and passages around the court were quiet, and no one questioned the queen’s servant and bodyguard, so she was able to make her way quickly. But when she reached the city, instead of turning away as her queen’s directions would have her do, she turned upward instead. Up into the tunnels and passageways that led toward the Human world, if she were to follow them that far... and also to the Troll Market.

Boann had served in King Balor’s court since she was but a child - her parents had both been advisors and warriors in Balor’s court in the old days, and they had been pleased and honored to have their daughter chosen as first a page, then a squire, and then seen her instated as a knight. In those days, the court of Bethmoora had been a noble, beautiful place... and though her parents had died in the wars long, long ago, Boann herself had lived to see that beauty and splendour falter into decrepitude and decay. She’d never believed that Prince Nuada was right in his choice to refuse his father and king’s direct orders, but... 

But Nuala was leading them straight into the Humans’ hands. 

She was so in love with this creature, this _Agent Sapien_ , and with her children by him. Boann had seen them only briefly, encased in gold jelly like little frogs, just after she helped her queen give birth to them in secret. When Nuala sent the children away to him, Boann had been sure that would be the end of the problem. The children would grow up in the Human world, and soon enough they would be out of her queen’s mind. Nuala would find another lover, one who could stand with her in the court without causing her even more trouble, and all would be well. And yet after so little time, here they were again... and she’d said she wanted to bring the children to the court. Boann gritted her teeth. She had been wrong to think that Nuala would stop. She remembered the king’s daughter of old - she had always been a delicate creature, too soft and yielding for queenship, and now she would bring these creatures of the Human world into their court. She would ask the tired, sad remnants of Bethmoora to bow to outsiders, to accept them as her heirs, and the Human world would come crashing down over them all, like waves dashing their once-great world against the rocks. Or, worse, the Elf-Lands would turn on Nuala, commit another heinous regicide, and fall into chaos and civil war.

Boann had sworn then to serve Nuala always, to protect her to death from any enemy... even if the enemy in question was Nuala herself. This madness had to be stopped.

After a few moment’s search in the Troll Market she found one of the fungus people, perched on a shelf in an odd corner of a cloth shop. She bent close to the creature’s head and whispered, “Find your master, and tell him that I have a message for him.”

“Master?” The creature’s two heads regarded her suspiciously. 

“You know who I mean...”

The thing squeaked, and then bowed frantically.

“Enough of that, just _go_!” Boann shoved the creature with the tip of a gloved finger. “I don’t have time for--”

A hand caught her shoulder, and she whipped around, her blade already in her hand to face - nothing. Then a voice, like poisoned silk on her skin, whispered in her ear. “For me? Fairest knight of my father’s service... how can you not have time for me?” 

Boann clenched her jaw. “My lord Nuada.” 

“Hush...” He moved around her, stepping out of the shadows to touch her cheek. He was cloaked and hooded in dark, rough fabric to hide him from Nuala’s guards, but he looked no different from before. Boann shuddered in revulsion - this was her choice, then? To serve a queen maddened with love for a pet of the Humans, or a prince so craven that he had murdered his own father before the whole court? But for the sake of her queen, for her _own_ honor, she knew where she must stand. “My lord, I have a message for you.” 

“From my sister?” He frowned. “Why would our usurper-queen send me a message? To win my trust, and then lock me up again, hmm? Surely you don’t think me so foolish as that, to walk to my sister’s court like a lamb, only to have the guards fall on me, and bind me in chains forged in the fires of the setting sun or some such foolish thing.” 

“The message is from her, my lord, I swear to you, but... it was not intended for you.”

“Then why are you delivering it to me?” He looked almost amused, but she remembered from the past that his moods could change in an instant, and there was a coldness in his eyes that she mistrusted. 

“Lady Nuala told me to tell no one of her errand--”

“Then _why_ are you betraying her trust?” The rage that boiled just below the surface of Nuada’s moods bubbled over suddenly, and Boann found a knife at her throat, pressing against the skin. She felt the cold of the metal, and then the first twinge of pain, and let it happen. If he thought it would frighten her, he was much mistaken. She had not feared hurt to her body since the day she felt the iron spearhead that had robbed her of her left eye. He saw her lack of fear and nodded, accepting it with something like a modicum of respect before continuing. “My sister deserves greater loyalty from her servants than this - perhaps I should cut you open and leave you on the steps of her stolen court to give her that message.” 

“I sought you only because I fear for Nuala’s safety. She is weak, and trusting, and she will drag us all into the mire of the Humans’ filth.” 

“As is her right!" Nuada raged. "She is your queen, you impudent whore, and if she took a fancy to see your hands hanging from the rafters of the court, you should cut them off yourself to save her the trouble of ordering it done!”

“And I would, my lord.” Boann told him calmly. “You know me of old, I have never been unfaithful to your family.” 

“Then why--”

“Because I fear for the queen your sister, whom I am sworn to protect with my life. Because she sent me to the Humans, the ones who fought you before, to the one she calls Abraham.”

Nuada pushed her away from him, releasing her, and spat in the street. “Him, again? Him!”

“Yes, him.” Boann rubbed her throat absent-mindedly. “She told me to warn him that you were freed. She begged that I go as quickly as I could, for the sake of him and her children.”

The prince’s face suddenly went still as stone. “Her children. Yes.” Nuada’s eyes narrowed, and his fists clenched, and for a moment Boann was sure that he would attack her out of sheer, uncontrolled fury, and tightened her grip on her own sword as she prepared for the attack. Then, with an effort, he unclenched his hands and took in a long, slow breath. “Tell me of them.”

“I know no more than you, my lord. I saw them only once, before they... hatched.” Boann curled her lip.

Nuada flinched. “Hatched. Of course. Oh, my beloved sister... how far you have fallen...”

“She begged that I warn them of your return, my lord,” Boann explained. “They have lived with their father these last months, but before your return Nuala hoped to bring them among our people. She told me how to find them... and I have come to you. Your sister cannot be allowed to bring herself so low - my loyalty to her will not allow me to see it.”

“I see.” Nuada nodded stiffly. “Well. We shall see what we can do about it, then, you and I...”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does the passage of 13 years count as something to be warned for? If so, then... um... temporal warning?

Thirteen, Abe knew, was a number of some significance in folklore and mythology. Theories on this seemed mostly to revolve around the number of lunar months in a year, but the important thing to him was not the reason for the significance so much as the fact that it _had_ significance. Specifically, that fact meant that it was just possible that Nuala might choose the children’s thirteenth birthday to send a message to them, or perhaps even to find time for a short visit. It was foolish to think this way, of course - he’d been equally hopeful on their third, fifth, seventh, and ninth birthdays - there was something about odd numbers in mythology, apparently - with not the slightest sign from her. But he couldn’t seem to quite give up hope... however improbable the outcome of that hope now appeared. 

Fortunately he had a distraction on the night before the children’s birthday - he, Red, and Liz, along with several of their associates, were called out to deal with a haunting at an old farmhouse in rural New Hampshire, only returning well after nightfall. 

“Have a beer with us?” Red offered, his arm slung casually around Liz’s waist as they tramped back into headquarters from the loading bay. 

“I... had better not.” 

“Birthday excitement tomorrow, right?” Liz smiled. “The twins have been waiting all week to give them all their presents. I took them shopping last weekend - it was hell on wheels getting something they both agreed on for all five, but I think we got it in the end.”

“And... well...” Abe glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly midnight. If she were to come, it would be around this time, he thought. First because it was a magical time, and second because it would be easiest for her to slip unnoticed through the edges of the Human world at this time of night. “I thought perhaps... that is, it’s possible...”

Liz frowned, and bit her lip. “Abe... at some point, don’t you think it’s more likely that she’s just... not coming?”

Abe shook his head emphatically. “Nuala said that she would come whenever she was able.”

“Yeah, and it’s been thirteen years. Abe, buddy, it’s time to face facts--”

“If it were Liz, would you stop waiting?” Abe interrupted. “Liz, what if it were Red?”

They sighed, glanced at each other, but didn’t answer for a long moment. 

“All I’m saying, Abe, is that you can’t keep waiting forever. She’s got... duties, right?” Red frowned. “She’s a queen. Maybe that means she can’t have the kids around. Maybe that’s why she sent them here.”

“She said that she would come when she was able,” Abe repeated staunchly. 

“Thirteen years, Abe. Thirteen. And she hasn’t found time even _once?_ She must be pretty damn busy.”

He walked away, and Liz looked after him for a moment before turning back to Abe with an apologetic expression. “He’s right, you know. You should think about moving on. You don’t deserve someone who can’t even manage to be a part of your life - ornyour kids’ lives - for thirteen years. That’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to _you_.” 

“But--”

“I liked her, too, Abe, and I’m sure she meant well, to begin with, but...” Liz shrugged. “One thing I know when it comes to relationships - it’s not what people say that matters. It’s what they _do_. She said she’d come back, sure, but in all this time... You have to think, if she really wanted to - if it _really_ mattered to her, like it would matter to you if the situation was reversed, she’d be with you. I know nothing would keep Red or me away from the kids, and I know nothing would keep _you_ away from either them or her, if you were in her place. Maybe... maybe Elves are just different, that way. I don’t know. But you have to think of what’s best for you, and for them.” She squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Eve over in forensics has had her eye on you for months, you know. She’s nice, and smart, and she loves the kids.”

“I know.” He thought of the technician - of her dark eyes and her black curls forever trying to burst out of the braid she wore them in at work, and the way she tutored the children in biology and chemistry. He’d walked into the lab one day to retrieve Niamh and Aodh after a particularly long study session had made them late for dinner, and found her laughing and playing cards with them both. She’d taught them to play rummy, and invited them to stay overnight at her house any time they wanted, and meet her own fifteen year-old daughter. He hadn’t yet allowed them to take her up on it, even though Niamh in particular begged at least once a week. _’You never let us go out!’_ she’d shouted, the last time he refused. _’Don’t you trust her? You_ work _with her - it’s not like we wouldn’t be safe!’_

He didn’t know how to tell her that he wasn’t afraid of Eve letting their secret out, or even that her daughter might inadvertantly get them into trouble - he trusted that the teenaged child of someone in the BPRD was probably well enough aware that there were secrets that couldn’t be shared around with school friends. He was afraid of _Eve_ , if he was honest. Of the way she smiled at him while they worked together, the way her hand sometimes lingered on his too long for it to be mere accident. Of the way he had once glanced at her computer when she’d left it unattended and found it open to a page describing the mating habits of tropical fish. He knew it was prudish of him, but he found the thought frankly a bit horrifying. 

“Just think about it, okay?” Liz asked softly. “Not necessarily Eve, just... just someone. Or not even anyone, if you don’t want, but... I just hate to see you like this, Abe. We both do. You’ve got to live your life.” She squeezed his shoulder one last time and then turned off toward the quarters she shared with Red and the twins. A tongue of flame lapped at the backs of her hands, Abe noticed. It was unlike Liz to let her temper get the better of her anymore - it underlined how truly upset she must be about the situation. 

When he got back to the library he found the children awake, all five of them arranged around a low table, discussing something in hushed tones. They looked up at him and guiltily went silent.

“What’s going on? You should all be in bed.”

The five children looked at each other. Abe noticed that Alastar, Aedan and Neasa looked a bit nervous, but Aodh and Niamh seemed not the least ill at ease.

“It’s a surprise,” Neasa replied. Her siblings all nodded, with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“It’s _your_ birthdays tomorrow,” Abe pointed out. “Why should you be planning surprises?”

She rolled her eyes. “If we told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” 

“It’s for you, and Red and Liz,” Aodh put in, smiling. “We’ve got something planned for you... but you can’t see it until tomorrow night.”

“At our party,” Aedan agreed. “It won’t be ready until then.”

Abe frowned, suspicious, but... well, the children _were_ cooped up in the Bureau all day, weren’t they? How much mischief could they possibly get into?

“Don’t stay up too late,” he warned them. “I still want you to do your lessons before your party tomorrow.”

“Even on our _birthday?_ ” Aodh whined.

“Even on your birthday. Exactly like every other year,” Abe reminded, as sternly as he could. It was hard to keep a firm tone when they were all looking at him so earnestly. And they _did_ work so hard, and not give him half the trouble the twins gave Red and Liz... he’d have to find a way to give them a bit more freedom, now that they were going to be into their teenage years. He had no idea how he could manage... perhaps a private school somewhere? An academy where the strength of their achievements would overcome their strange appearances... He would have to do some research. It wasn’t fair to keep them locked away so closely - it would only stunt their social growth as they grew older, and he _did_ want them to have as normal of lives as possible.

“We won’t be too much later,” Niamh promised when he bent over to kiss her forehead. 

“Good. Remember to turn out the lights before you go to bed, please.” 

“We will,” Alastar assured him. 

Each accepted a kiss in turn (he noted with some amusement that all but Neasa now took it with some chagrin, as though by some magic as the clock neared to midnight they were already beginning to behave like teenagers), and chorused a quick ‘goodnight,’ in response to his. He turned back once as he headed up to his tank and was pleased to see that they were all gathering their things and trooping off toward their bedrooms. They were good kids, he thought, somewhat awkwardly. They’d get by somehow.

* * *

“You don’t think he noticed, do you?” Neasa leaned over her brother’s shoulder as he shut the door to the boys’ room behind them all. Compared to other living quarters in the bureau, like Liz and Hellboy’s, the childrens’ rooms were fairly simple. In the boys’ room, two bunk beds stood against the walls opposing the door - one raised up over over a desk, the other twinned - and posters lined the cement walls. 

“Nah.” Aodh pulled her back into the room and shut the door, then locked it. “If he’d noticed, he would have made us show him.”

“Maybe we should have, though...”

“The letter said not to tell him. It said it was a surprise. We’ll tell him when we get back - and he’ll be so happy he won’t even be angry with us for keeping it a secret,” Aedan pointed out. The smallest of the children, he curled up neatly on the edge of his brother’s desk. 

“Off,” Alastar grumbled, shoving him. His other hand protectively guarded the lava lamp he kept next to his computer monitor.

“Why? I won’t break anything.” 

“That’s not the point. Just get off my desk.”

Aedan rolled his eyes, but dropped off and threw himself into a rolling chair instead. He spun once, and came to a stop facing his siblings. “So, we’re all agreed, then?”

“No.”

Everyone looked at Niamh. She stood with her hands planted on her hips, a defiant gleam in her eyes. 

“Why not?” 

“She hasn’t been here. Thirteen years, and then all of a sudden we’re all supposed to jump up and go to her, just because she sends us a letter and a cheap little charm?” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s real gold...” Alastar held the pendant they’d received up in the light. “And that stone looks like genuine amber.”

“That’s not the point, Al! Is that all it takes to buy us back? A little bit of jewelry and a few nice words written on some parchment? She’s _never_ been around!”

“Like Father always said, she’s busy...”

“So’s he! So are Liz and Red, and Eve, and all the others here. Just because she’s the queen of some dying kingdom under the ground--”

“I’m with Niamh on that, it _is_ pretty lame that she can’t even write to us until today,” Aodh pointed out.

“Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe... maybe there was a war on!” Aedan suggested. 

“Don’t you think we would have noticed?” Neasa frowned. “Dad, I mean, and the Bureau. Don’t you think they’d know if there was a war going on right under our feet?” 

“The Troll Market’s in Brooklyn, and we don’t even know where the rest of Elf-Land is - maybe the war was in Ireland, or somewhere else in Europe, so we wouldn’t have heard a thing over here. But it would have required all her attention.”

“You’re such a dope, Alastar.” Niamh rolled her eyes. “Even if there _was_ a war, why wouldn’t she say anything to us until now? I just don’t think we should make it that easy for her. She should have to prove to us that she really wants to be a part of our lives again.”

“She’s our _mother_!” Neasa looked horrified. “She _is_ a part of our lives!”

“Why, because Dad’s always telling us stories about her lands, or about the few _days_ that he actually knew her? _Please._ Don’t be such a baby.” 

“I’m only trying to say--”

“Just stop it, all of you, please!” Alastar raised the letter in one hand, and the pendant in the other. “Let’s not fight. We don’t have much time. The letter says to come just after moonrise, if we’re coming at all. We need to make our decision, and make it quick, or we won’t have a chance. I know mine - I’ve known it since we got the letter. I’m going. Who’s with me?”

Neasa, Aodh, and, with some hesitation, Aedan, all raised their hands. Niamh kept hers folded staunchly under her arms.

“Come on, Niamh. We should all go together.” 

“She’s never been there for us. Why should we be there for her?” Niamh scowled, her large dark eyes making the expression look particularly dire. “If you want to go, go. I won’t stop you, and I won’t tell Dad, but I’m not going to be a part of this.” With that, she stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind her. 

Inside, the other four children looked solemnly at each other, shrugged in silent mutual agreement, and put on their coats to leave. They slipped out quickly, taking a back route to bypass the library so they wouldn’t wake their father, and then out the service hallway described in their mother’s letter. They could move more quickly outside the building, and sneaked easily past the guards at the Bureau’s gate while they stopped into the guard house for a cup of coffee. The idea of the bureau’s guard-house, of course, was to keep people _out_ \- they’d never had to bother much with keeping anyone _in_ , so they didn’t look that way. Still, the deception sat wrong with Neasa, who hesitated just outside the circle of light from the Bureau’s grounds.

“Maybe we should have told Dad...”

“We can’t.” Aodh took her arm, tugging her gently. “You know he’d never let us go.”

“But he could come with us. Then it would be all right, and we could all go.”

“The letter said to go alone.” Aedan frowned, rubbing the side of his neck. “Maybe she wants to surprise him.”

“Or maybe... Maybe they had an argument? Before she left, I mean? Something he didn’t tell us about, and that’s why...” Neasa looked a little guilty just suggesting the idea.

“That’s not how it happened. We would have at least overheard something about it if that was the problem.” Alastar put his arm around his sister’s shoulders, squeezing her softly. “Come on. It’ll be okay - she just wants to see us on our birthday, like she said in the letter. She’s busy with ruling the court, so she can’t come herself, but she still wants to see us. I’ve been thinking about it, and maybe... maybe thirteen is like a coming-of-age sort of thing, for Elves. Maybe that’s why she wants us to come alone, for now.”

Aodh frowned. “What, like a test or something? Some kind of challenge?”

“Maybe.” In the moonlight, Alastar looked almost like a full-elf, himself - he was the tallest of the siblings, and the most pale, with only the softest hints of blue-green stripes on his back, and on his hands. Dressed in a black wool coat as he was now he could nearly pass as Human, but something strange and unearthly seemed to reflect in his eyes in the darkened forest. Neasa looked at Aodh, and saw it there, too - and in Aedan’s eyes as well. Maybe Alastar was right. Maybe thirteen really was a magical age for them, as half-Elves.

“Come on. We took a long time getting out of the building, and the computer said moonrise was only a half hour away.” Aedan held out his hand to Neasa, and this time she nodded and took it, her fears settled. They hurried into the darkness, up the wooded hill, and out into the forest of the national park that bordered, and hid, the Bureau’s headquarters. They slowed down in the forest, hampered by low-hanging branches and roots that tried to trip them, but managed to follow the directions written in the letter out to a clearing on a little hill. A tall, pale figure waited for them at the top.

As they approached, Alastar felt an unspoken worry kindling in his stomach. He stepped ahead of his brothers and sister, and mounted the hill first. “Hello? Who are you?”

The figure turned, revealing a bone-pale face that could almost have been Alastar’s twin, if not for the difference in age and eyes, and the lack of the bluish mottling that marked his own skin. “I am your mother’s brother, nephew. And I’m most pleased that you came.”

Alastar’s heart seemed to skip a beat. “Our uncle? But Father--”

“There has been bad blood between your father and I in the past, but I assure you that it is all behind us, now.” The man smiled, his teeth bright white in the moonlight. “My people cherish children above all things, nephew. Surely even the Humans’ stories of us have taught you that.”

“Of course,” Alastar agreed, somewhat automatically. “I am Alastar. And these are Aedan, Aodh, and Neasa.”

“Only four? I was told to expect five of you...”

“Niamh is the other, she... could not come with us tonight.” Alastar shifted awkwardly and then added, although it was a lie, “She sends her apologies.”

“Hmm. Well. I would much have preferred to bring all of you together, but if that is how it is, that is how it must be, is it not? I am Nuada. Walk with me.” Without waiting for them, he turned and nearly disappeared into the shadows, a white phantom of shape. The four children looked at each other, and then followed. It was true that their father had mentioned their mother’s brother in his stories about the short time they’d spent together, and he had not seemed overly fond of the man. He had said only that Nuada was proud, and disliked the Human world, that he had tried to bring about war between the Humans and the Elves, and that their mother had worked with their father and the rest of the BPRD to stop him. That was all. In any event, it had to be true that he and their mother were reconciled - why else would she have sent him to meet them that night? 

Still, as they walked further, Aedan began to grow nervous. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“Uncle,” the man before them corrected. “’Where are we going, _Uncle._ ’ You must learn proper manners - rudeness is not tolerated in our world.” 

Aedan glanced at Aodh and made a sour face. Neasa frowned at them. “You’ll make him angry,” she hissed. “Remember the stories Dad read to us? Elves are quick to take insult.” She hurried a few steps ahead of her brothers, then, and repeated in a sweet voice, “Where are we going, Uncle?” 

He laughed, and stopped to face her. “You _are_ your mother’s child, aren’t you? So gentle and unassuming. For you then, my sweet, I shall answer whatever questions you wish. We are going into the Human’s city. The way for you into the court is there.” 

“In the city?” Aodh caught up to them, his gills fluttering as he caught his breath. “But I thought Father said that Elves avoided the Human world. He said they hate buildings and iron and all of that.”

“We do hate it. But it is everywhere around us, so we must do what we can in its midst. It is easier to hide under their noses than out here, where they watch for signs of life. Now, less chatter from you all - we must still get there before dawn.”

It felt like they walked for hours, and by the time they reached the city, all four children were tired. Nuada encouraged them on, though, into the sewers and through dark, dank tunnels until they reached a huge cavern, dark and gloomy, in which an underwater lake lay, lined with uneven white-grey stalagmites. The edges of the lake looked nearly aflame with strange color - saffron yellow and a brilliant turquoise that seemed almost to glow in the darkness.

When they had all reached the edge of the lake, Nuada turned and smiled at them from the edge, his white boots nearly touching the eerily brilliant blue waters at the edge. “Here it is, nephews and nieces. Your way into your mother's court.”

“This?” Neasa bent down, peering into the darkness beyond. It didn’t look like a pathway of any kind to her - she could hear water dripping faintly in the distance, but other than that she could see nothing in the inky depths at the center - from the edges it grew very dark very quickly, presumably because of its depth. It didn’t look very welcoming, with its nearly acid-blue edges, and the strange stillness of the water here deep underground. But then she recalled that in fairy tales it was always the darkest path, the humblest gift, and the most un-promising visitor who ended up bringing the greatest blessings.

Aodh leaned over as well. He could see nothing in the murky water but the reflection of the pale crescent moon above, shining through a grate. “What will it be like?”

“The court?” Nuada knelt down, sitting back on his heels, hands relaxed, and his worn-ivory face softened somewhat with reverie. “In days gone by, ours was the most beautiful kingdom in all the world. There were trees then with trunks so wide that all five of us could have grasped hands around it and not made a full circle, and in their high branches every kind of bird sang. My father... your grandfather’s court then was a hall with living trees for its pillars. In the spring their branches were covered with white blossoms, and I would help your mother to climb them, to make garlands out of the flowers. In autumn the leaves blanketed the floors of the hall in red and gold. Artisans from all the peoples of the world came to us, and plied their trade for our king, and in return he gave them the richest gifts. Gold and jewels were plentiful, but more treasured still were the beauty of song and dance, of laughter and the light of living things.”

“It sounds beautiful,” Neasa said softly.

“Oh, it was, little one. In those days, it was a wonder.” Nuada and laid a hand on her shoulder, and then reached out with his other hand and cupped her chin, tilting her head this way and that as he examined her. “It’s a pity you have such strange eyes - you really do look almost exactly like your mother. I would almost take you with me, if I could.”

Neasa blinked, her smile faltering. “What--What do you mean, Uncle?”

“But, I’m afraid that is not possible right now. You must go to meet your mother first.” He smiled, and then pulled from his belt a glass vial that sparkled in the darkness. “Here - drink this, each of you. Quickly, now, before the sun rises in the city above us.”

“What will it do?” Aodh asked. 

“Such suspicious children you are! I can see why your poor mother worried to leave you with the Humans. It will help you to go to her, little nephew. You do want to see your mother, don’t you? Now drink!”

Alastar frowned, and took the vial from Neasa’s fingers. “I’ll drink it first, if you don’t mind, _Uncle._ ” 

Nuada smiled, and inclined his head, his hands stretched out at his sides. “Just so. A good brother should always protect his sister. Drink up, nephew. No harm shall come to you of it.”

Alastar took a good mouthful of the stuff, held it in his mouth for a moment, and, as he felt no burning and tasted nothing that he could say was dangerous, swallowed. It left a strange tingling in his mouth, almost like peppermint and cloves but somehow stranger and more warm, but not unpleasant, and a sweet taste lingered after it. “Go ahead,” he told the others, handing the vial back to Neasa. “It seems safe.”

“Of course it does. I wouldn’t poison my own niece and nephews - I am no Human, to betray a bond like that.” Nuada spat, his eyes scathing.

“Some Humans are nice, you know, Uncle,” Neasa said calmly, and then took a long sip from the vial. “Perhaps we can show you that, after you’ve shown us your world. The people who teach us...”

“I do not believe that would be wise,” Nuada interrupted her. “Quickly, now - give the vial to your brothers. You must all drink before the sun rises outside, or you will not be able to enter the court with me, and your poor mother will have to wait another thirteen years to see you. You don’t want that, do you?”

Aedan drank, and then Aodh, who handed the vial back to Nuada. “What must we do now, Uncle?”

“You must do nothing. I shall fix it all...” Nuada smiled and removed from his sash another vial, this time filled with a glittering silver powder. This he uncorked and, with a sudden flip of his wrist, threw over all four children at once. In an instant, they writhed and twisted in the cloud of dust, and when a gust of sudden wind blew the powder away, all that remained on the ground were four wiggling, silver-bronze carp, their mouths gaping desperately and their gills gasping in the air. 

“There you are, little niece and nephews.” Nuada quickly picked up all four and dropped them without ceremony into the underground pool. “If my sister will whore herself to a fish, then it is only fitting that she shall have fish for her children.” He waited, and watched them for a moment as the morning sunlight slipped in through a grating above, illuminating their sleek, scaled sides flashing in the dim pond. “You’ll be safe here. No harm will come to you. And our world will be safe _from_ you. It’s for the best, little niece and nephews. I promise you that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Disturbing themes and imagery. Death of a non-canon character.

Day and night mattered little within the court, far beneath the surface and out of reach of sun or moon. Nuala had long since given up missing the touch of sunlight - she found now that she hardly remembered it. The light of candles and torches was strangely empty, but it gave warmth and brightened her spirits some as she walked through her kingdom. In the main hall the leaves of the tree that her father had planted still fell around her. Strange, she had been sure that it was beginning to recover...

"You've finally arrived, sister." 

Nuala's attention snapped to the voice behind her, turning quickly, caught and held by her brother's dark gold gaze. "I'm sorry, I was delayed."

He waggled a finger at her, but smiled. "How could I not forgive you? On today, of all days."

Today. It was an important day, then - wasn't it? But Nuala could remember no holy day to mark, no feast to commemorate... "Is it a special day, then, brother?" she asked cautiously. Although he looked to be in good cheer, she knew only too well that anything could set Nuada into a rage that would make all the courtiers around them miserable, and her most of all. But Nuada only laughed. 

"How can you have forgot? It is your coronation, sweet sister! Today you are to be crowned queen."

"Am I?" Of course - how had she forgotten? Such an important day to forget, but... "I'm not ready, brother. I don't know what to do, what to say--"

"Too late to think of that now," Nuada chided. "You stole the crown from my hands, sister - did you not know that someone would have to wear it? That if you took the prize from me, the responsibility for it would fall on your thin shoulders? You should have thought more carefully. But I forgive you. I'll stay here, and help you as I can." With a cat-like grin, he sauntered up the dais and sprawled in their father's throne. 

She ought, she knew, to tell him that it wasn’t his - that he had no right to sit on the throne of the father he’d murdered. As rightful queen, she should order him to leave the throne-room and never return. It was her duty to her father’s memory, and to the memory of all that Nuada had ruined, and the rest that he’d come so close to destroying. But her feet felt as though they were rooted in the earthen floor of the council chamber, her voice as though it had been stolen away altogether. When she tried to speak, no sound came out, no matter how hard she tried to shout.

“You will be so happy, sister, now that we are together again,” Nuada was saying. “I promise you, you shall have everything your heart desires. Name me one thing - anything. Anything at all for you, on your coronation day.”

Nuala opened her mouth to tell him that he could hardly give her a coronation gift when he’d stolen her place from her, but as before she could force out no sound. 

“You are speechless with wonder at my generosity, I see.” Nuada smiled indulgently at her, and beckoned her closer. Although she wanted none of whatever he planned to do or say, she found her feet carrying her to him, betrayed as always by their connection. 

“As meek as ever. But how can I know what gift to give you if you won’t speak? Still? Nothing? Not a sound?” He waited a long moment. “Ah, well. It is a good thing for you that I am a loving and considerate brother as well as a generous king. I know your mind, sister - I can see within it every moment, and I see where your heart most lingers, what you most wish you could have. And of course you are, as always, so modest in your wishes. No gold or silk or priceless jewels for my beautiful sister, for none could make her shine more than she does on her own. Likewise no power, no wisdom, to sully the perfection of her innocent mind. Nor again the love of legions, to be worshipped as I must honestly state would be only her fair due. No, my sister longs only for her lover to be near her again - for his strange, dark eyes, expressive hands, and his good, pure heart. And what a brother would I be if I did not grant that simple wish?”

Nuada clapped his hands once, and a tall, cloaked figure appeared from the shadows.

“Abraham?” But even as Nuala cried out his name, she sensed that the person approaching could not be him. There was none of his grace in this being’s walk, none of his elegant carriage in its posture. The cloak fell away, and a guard stood before her wearing holding out a golden tray dripping with blue blood, on which lay a severed pair of elegant, long-fingered blue hands, two wide, dark eyeballs, and a heart still clotted with its last blood. 

“And of course, my dear sister, I know you would not want to be without your children...”

Nuala screamed and fell backward... and then woke, trembling and twisted in her blankets. 

She’d begun to retch even before she’d untangled herself completely, but, praise to all that was holy, found herself still blessedly alone. She vomited violently into the chamber pot, and then lay, curled up and miserable in the blankets, waiting for the horror of her nightmare to fade. 

_Safe, safe, it’s all safe_ , she told herself. _Everything is fine. Boann will take the message to Abraham, and he will know to take care. Only a little longer - once the goblins have made the chain and the guards have found Nuada again, I can be sure it is safe for Abraham and the children here, and I can go to them. I can bring them here, and know always that they are safe._ And yet those images, the beautiful hands and eyes that she loved so much cut from the heart that sustained them, ripped and hanging like butcher’s wares on a plate, their life still oozing sluggishly from them. And her children... Nausea gripped Nuala again, and she leaned over the edge of the bed, feeling abjectly pathetic and yet helplessly grateful that she had awoken before she learned what horrors her mind would dredge up for them. She had never yet actually seen her children in life, not fully-formed and without the glistening coccoons of jelly they’d been birthed with, but her mind, she had learned, was horrifyingly cunning at coming up with fresh torments to visit on the innocent shapes that she so often imagined during her waking hours.

Now that she was awake, she could feel the taint of Nuada’s mind on hers, and with it strange images, different from those she’d dreamed, but nonetheless disturbing. A city landscape, all hard edges and dark, straight lines, with bright lights shattering the night’s calm, and a dark cave of some kind. He was in the Human world again, then, as she had suspected. Beyond that, she could not tell anything useful - all cities looked alike to her, cold and grey and lifeless, and her lingering sickness and horror at what she’d seen in her dreams made her unwilling to push further into her brother’s thoughts to learn more - if she did, he would be sure to see her weakness and take advantage of it. She sighed, and sat up in bed again, pushing aside the pale gold curtains that protected her small bower... and stopped as she saw the black figure of one of the raven guards open the door into her chamber. 

Her blood ran cold. Only something truly important would cause the guards to disturb her so early in the morning. “What has happened?”

The guard said nothing - they never did, it wasn’t their way - but only beckoned through the door. Another of the guards walked in, carrying a stiff and broken figure in pale amber-coloured stone. He set it carefully on the floor, revealing Boann’s face, her body curved unnaturally, as though she’d been thrown down a flight of stairs and left there at the bottom to die, her body still half raised on the steps. An intricately carved bone knife stuck out of her chest, and a single word in Gaelige had been carved on her forehead before she died - _’traitor.’_

Nuala turned her face away, her eyes shut against the sight of her aide’s broken body, the sickly-sweet smell of dust and death that reminded her of her father’s body, of her own brief death. 

“My brother did this.” It was not a question, but the raven-guard inclined his head anyway, then gestured at the body, a curious tilt to his long-masked head. “Take her away,” Nuala sighed. “Put her... put her in the lower chambers, until we can find a more suitable resting place. I must think of what he will do next.” She already knew, though. If Nuada had found Boann before she got her message to Abraham, then he probably knew of it by now - Nuala knew how _persuasive_ her brother could be. He would go after Abraham and the children. And they would have had no warning.

Nuala looked up at the remaining raven-guard, took a deep breath, and steeled herself. “Gather all the guards left in the court. I must go out. I need to find someone, quickly.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some violence and unpleasant imagery.

In the morning, Abe had a series of meetings and debriefings from the previous night’s job. Liz and Red seemed unwilling to bring up their argument of the night before, so he tentatively took it all to be forgiven and forgotten. It was past noon by the time he finished, and when he returned to his quarters he expected to find the children eagerly awaiting him, ready to share whatever project they’d been working on the night before, and to prepare for their birthday party. Instead... the library was empty. Perhaps they weren’t finished with whatever surprise they’d come up with, then, he thought... but when he got back to their rooms he saw nothing, heard nothing. Nothing, except a soft, muffled sound, coming from the boys’ room. He pushed open the door and found Niamh, alone and hugging a fuzzy purple bathrobe around herself, curled up on the floor between her brothers’ beds. Her eyes were wide when she looked up at him, and her fragile little gills fluttered with anxiety.

Abraham sympathized - his own were beating rapidly as well, now, and he could hardly think for the way his heart pounded and his fingers tingled with fear. “Niamh, what is going on here? Where are your brothers and sister?”

She swallowed and scrubbed the back of her hand against her face. “I promised I wouldn’t tell, but it’s been _hours_. They should have been back by now!” 

“Back from _where?_ ”

“I told them...” She shook her head, and then took a deep breath. “Yesterday, we got a letter. From... it said it was from Mother. And it said that she wanted to see us, and that we should meet an emissary from her court at a particular place in the forest outside - he would take us to the court, to see her, but only if we came alone, and before dawn. I _told_ them not to go, but they wouldn’t listen to me!”

Abe clenched his fists. This was everything he’d feared for thirteen years, everything he’d hoped to avoid - the one silver lining to the fact that Nuala had never contacted them, never made any effort to see the children. And now... “Tell me everything you remember, Niamh.”

She didn’t remember much of the directions from the letter, and once she had told all that there was to tell, it took some effort to convince Niamh to stay back and not come along with him in his search for the others. In the end, he took her to Liz and Red’s quarters and insisted that she stay there with them, despite their complaints.

“She’ll be fine here - you can leave her with Eve, or one of the other agents. We should be with you - you’re going to need back-up on this, Abe.”

“Liz is right.” Red picked up his gun from the nightstand. 

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Abe, don’t be stupid--”

“Please listen to me, Liz. What I _need_ is to know that Niamh is safe. That she’ll still be here when I come back. If someone from Nuala’s court could get a letter to them here, they can most likely get in again, as well. Or have you both forgotten ther last time Nuada was here?” he added bitterly. 

Red’s hand unconsciously brushed the scar above his pectoral muscle. “Tough to forget that,” he admitted.

“Then you know that I’m right, Red. You need to stay here, you and Liz both, and watch over the twins and Niamh, to make sure they’re safe.”

“And leave you to go out alone? I don’t--” 

“Red.” Liz’s voice stopped both of them short. “He’s right. If they got in once, they can get in again, and we can’t leave the kids unprotected.”

“I could go with Abe, and you could...” Even before he completed the sentenced Red seemed to realize that was not going to be an answer that Liz would accept. “Or we could both stay,” he grumbled. “Fine. But Abe, take one of the other guys with you...”

“I can’t. Not where I’m going.”

* * *

Where before the Troll Market had seemed to Abe like a wonderland, all manner of creature accepting his strange appearance as though they saw him every day, now its crowded hollows and darkened corners were a nightmare. No one gave him a second glance, true, but all around him Abe saw potential enemies. The one creature he’d hoped he might be able to trust, the map-seller, seemed to have vanished without a trace - in place of his shop, a sprawling stall of twisted and subverted electronics did a brisk business. Worse still, no one seemed at all inclined to pay any mind to a stranger unfamiliar with their ways. 

“Excuse me... Excuse me? Sir... or madam, ah, if I could just ask you...?”

No one met his eyes, or even slowed about their business. If Red were there, Abe thought, he would have fired a shot in the air, shouted, and instantly had everyone’s attention. Granted, that attention would probably have led to a brawl, but at least the barriers would have been broken and communication could, once anger had been sated and broken teeth collected from the ground, begin. Even in his agitated state, Abe could tell that starting a fight was a bad idea, as most of the Market’s denizens looked as though they’d be willing and able to kill him for disrupting their business, but his own methods seemed to be equally ineffective and time weighed heavily on his mind. Every passing moment in the hands of their capricious uncle was a threat to the safety of the children.

He’d fumbled his gun out of the utility belt when he noticed a commotion at the other side of the market. Amid excited mutterings and exclamations, the brightly-colored crowd parted for a small cluster of decidedly unfriendly-looking figures with black masks and large blades that looked more like over-sized cleavers than any proper kind of sword... and at the center of this contingent walked a willowy shape of white, gold and blue. 

“Nuala! Nuala!” Abe stretched up, waving his arm... but the crowd around him did the same, as everyone in the market craned their necks for a look at the queen, or called out to her for audiences or favors. The guards - at least Abe hoped that was what they were - kept everyone at a distance from their queen, but they also, by their bulk, blocked her view. There was no chance that she would see him in all this commotion... and she was moving steadily, if slowly, away. Another few moments, and he would miss her completely, and with her lose his best chance at recovering the children.

 _Move, don’t think..._ Abe pushed through a group of veiled and masked beings, leapt on top of a vendor’s cart, and fired his gun three times into the air. “ _Nuala!_ ” he shouted.

His stunt _did_ achieve at least some of the desired result - he had the attention of every being in the market, some of whom recoiled in shock - others shouted threats or even screamed. Unfortunately, that universal attention also included the masked guards around Nuala, who proved to be shockingly quick on their feet for beings of their mass, weighed down as they were with heavy wood and leather armor. Three of them were on him before the last syllable of Nuala’s name had faded from the air. Under their long, beaked masks, the smell of carrion flowed thick, and dried blood crusted their clothes and their over-sized swords. Rough hands grabbed him, pulling him down from the cart, and he felt coarse edges of cold metal at his back. Through the crush, Abe was sure he heard Nuala’s voice, shouting something in Gaelige... and suddenly, the guards all froze.

There could be no doubt in Abe’s mind, now, that Nuala’s hold over her guards was supreme. She was also quicker on her feet than Abe had ever guessed - in what seemed like barely an instant, she was pushing through the little cluster of guards that surrounded him. For one perfect moment as she threw her arms around him, all the world shrank to relief and gratitude at finding her again, the feelings reflected and amplified in what he felt from Nuala herself. They were together again, and that... _that_ was true magic, to him. Her smooth skin and pale, soft hair, her golden eyes and the way her fingers clutched at him... all this was exactly the same as the last time he’d seen her. She was different, though, in subtle ways - each a painful reminder of the time they’d been apart, and he wondered how much Nuala must have endured in that time. Before, her mind had felt to him like a quiet pool, shadowed, somehow a thing at once elemental and yet essentially fragile. Now, the strength that he’d recognized in her the first time they met was tempered, emphasized - more like a river than a pond, he thought. He had a sense that, under her beauty and gentle exterior, the force of her could, in time, cut through stone.

“I would rather say that the smallest vine can, in time, shatter a boulder,” Nuala told him, apparently picking up the train of his thought as she pulled back from their embrace, her face shining. “But without water even the greatest oak will die. Oh, Abraham, I’ve missed you so...” 

“And... And I you. But, Nuala--”

“My brother is freed, Abraham. I tried to send you a message...”

“It seems the messenger was... diverted. We heard nothing.”

Nuala nodded. “The messenger is dead. My guards found her this morning.”

“It must be him, then. Someone took the children last night. All of them but Niamh.” He wished, almost, that he had not still held her hand as he said that - the pain and horror in her mind as she heard the words was almost too much for him to bear. It was so terrible that he struggled to keep talking, trying to block out the anguish in her mind. It only made his own worse, because while he could only imagine what Nuada was capable of, he had a terrible feeling that Nuala _knew_. “Niamh is safe, albeit... very upset. She stayed behind, when the others left, and she... she told me what happened early this afternoon. Apparently they received a letter that they thought was from you. A pendant was with it...”

“A golden leaf.” Nuala looked stricken. “I sent it with Boann, as a token that my message was genuine. I dared not write anything down, but I knew you would sense that the pendant was mine, and would know to trust her.”

“If they’d brought it to me, I might even have been able to pick up the message you truly intended to send us - or at least known that what the letter said was untrue.” Abe felt dizzy, as if his gills were drying out. “Nuala, I’m so sorry...”

“You couldn’t have known. If I’d sent word sooner, if I’d found a better way... if I’d come myself. I should have known not to trust any but myself with this message, but I was afraid that if I went to you, my brother would know to follow me.” She squeezed his hand lightly, and in that touch he sensed that she felt the same desperate, frustrated protectiveness, as well as the same overwhelming guilt. “I should have found stronger magics to bind him, Abraham - I’m so sorry. Our ways are constantly undone by the world above, now, but I didn’t think... How foolish could I have been, to bind him in a tree when so few of our old groves still stand? But it seemed like the sensible thing to do, at the time, and now...”

“We’ll get them back,” Abe assured her.

Nuala pressed her lips together, trying to control the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, clawing at the back of her throat and pushing at every edge of her mind, whispering that there was no way, no hope, not against her brother and his madness... but she swallowed it all back, and her outward composure showed no sign of the terror within. “We shall,” she agreed in a confident voice. “Together.”

“What do you think he’ll do?” Abe asked cautiously. He wasn’t sure how strong the twins’ bond was, now, or whether Nuala’s people were aware of the telepathic link between their queen and her exiled brother.

She answered all those questions, shaking her head. “I cannot sense him now. He’s locked me out - he may slip later, if he’s distracted, but... And as for a guess to his motives, I’m afraid I have none beyond what we know. That he is angry, hurt by what he views as my betrayal, that he wants to make the Humans suffer, and us as well... and that he is frustrated, and deeply jealous.”

Abe blinked. “Jealous...?”

“My people value children above all things, Abraham, but we do not sire or give birth easily. Our numbers have dwindled for ages, and..." She looked faintly embarrassed, but continued, "and human children are much more difficult to steal away nowadays. Our lifespans, to the Humans, might as well be forever, but what use is forever if you don’t have a future? In his own way, Nuada has fought for millenia to try to give us that future. And yet now, the future we have is in _our_ children.” She looked down at her hands, then seemed to force her eyes back up to meet his. “I do not think that can be a future that he is pleased with.”

“We must find them quickly, then. You have no idea where he might have taken them?”

Nuala closed her eyes, and through their link Abe could feel her searching her mind, letting her consciousness wander as though she were flipping randomly through the pages of a book, willing something to catch her inner eye. “No, I... wait. This morning, I woke with an image in my mind - a city, and a... a dark place, deep underground.”

"Sewers? Somewhere near here, perhaps?” 

“Perhaps... but I don’t know where it might be, or even if it _is_ where he has them, or if it is only something else that has meaning to him! There is no time to hunt. We must find them, and quickly.” She closed her eyes, concentrating. “I know what to do. Follow me.”

Moving to the side of the market a few steps away, Nuala closed her eyes, resting her hand on the earthen wall. “Show me,” she murmured in a low tone. “Show me...” The rest of the words were all in Gaelige, whispered too quickly for Abe to follow, and she finished a phrase that sounded almost sung to Abe’s ear. _A spell_ , he thought - _She’s casting a spell._ For all that he knew Nuala to be a creature of magic, and even though he’d seen some of the strange and supernatural things her twin had done in the past and had been vaguely aware that Nuala herself must have similar abilities, that was nothing to watching her actually perform a spell.

And a powerful spell, too, he realized, as roots grew out of the soil in front of them, twined for a moment around Nuala's hand, and then burst out into a strange, white blossom with dark gold veins and a center so bright that it seemed to glow on its own. That light grew, and then finally popped off the flower with the light motion of a bubble being blown onto a light breeze, and floated, glowing brightly, in front of Nuala. The flower, relieved of its fruit, withered instantly and fell to the ground, where Abe was shocked to see a quartet of blue fairies zip over and gather up the desiccated petals and spirit them away.

"They're close by." Nuala tugged her hand against the roots and tendrils that still bound her hand to the wall. When she finally pulled away, Abe could see livid puckerings like small bites on her wrist and hand, and a few remaining droplets of amber blood gathered on her pale skin.

"Nuala--"

"It's nothing." She took a silk handkerchief from her sash and quickly bound it around her hand. 

"But--"

"That light will guide us to our children, Abraham. A little blood is small payment for that." 

"But... you're their queen. Shouldn't they want to help you regardless of payment?"

Nuala looked at him strangely. "I am their queen, so I understand their needs. The balance is what matters - a gift for a gift. Nothing comes without a price, here, Abraham. Come, we should hurry - the light won't last forever. All of you, follow us," she added to the guards. "I fear we may need as many hands as we can get, if we're to stop him."

The raven guards bowed as one, and Nuala nodded back to them, then hurried after the little glowing globe into the darkness of the underground.

* * *

Something... _tickled_ , at the back of Niamh’s mind. The sensation was like waking from a dream with the distinct impression that something had been important, vitally important, but finding herself unable to call it to mind completely - it danced at the edge of her thoughts, tugging, pulling, always grabbing her attention away from whatever she tried to concentrate on, but never revealed itself. It was something... something... Something to do with water. 

Niamh sighed and pushed aside her dictionary. She’d been studying Akkadian out of some of the books in her father’s library - a difficult enough project was usually plenty to distract her from anything, let alone something she didn’t want to think about. But today, the image of her brothers and sister leaving the night before preyed constantly on her mind, and nothing she did could seem to banish them, or the nagging _thing_ that whispered in her thoughts. It was... dark. Concentrating on it made her feel cold, made her skin feel almost gritty. Like bad water. Water in a... storm drain? No, not so dirty as that. Not so... new. This was old water, water that was colder than any she’d felt before. Water in a city, yes, but deep, in a... A wave of almost-nausea washed over her, as she could almost _taste_ the metallic, earthy, fetid water on her tongue, feel it on her skin, skin that was... Niamh shuddered. She felt _slimy_ , and yet that feeling of grit overlaid it, as though something was itching at her as well. 

“You okay, there, kiddo?” 

Niamh forced a weak smile at Red. “Just worried. They’re still not back.”

“Your dad’ll find ‘em.” 

“Yeah, I know, but...” Niamh trailed off. An image coalesced in her mind, distorted but distinct - a bright light through a grid, seen through water. A grate, the thing between the water and the light was a grate. The water around her... around _them_. It had to be around them, around her brothers and sister. Their father could sense the history of objects with his hands, could read things about people through them as well, and he’d said that their mother had some of the same ability, that they’d been able to read each others’ minds to a certain expect, when they were together. Niamh and her siblings had never felt anything like that, but what if this was it? What if she could sense them... feel in her mind wherever they were? 

“You sure you’re okay?” Red repeated, watching her closely. Liz, across the room talking to one of the Human agents, turned and looked at them, concerned. 

“I’m fine. I’m just tired. I’m going to take a nap.” 

Liz crossed the library and touched her shoulder lightly. “You sure you don’t need anything? If you want to talk about it...?”

“No... thanks. I’d rather just sleep. I was up late, waiting. You’ll wake me when they get back?”

“Of course.” 

The feeling was growing clearer by the moment in Niamh’s mind, as though now that she’d recognized it for what it was, more and more detail could come through. A rumbling vibration - the sound of street traffic above wherever they were - shuddered through her, and there was a feeling of distance, and a vague memory... a memory of the path they’d taken the night before. Niamh took in a slow, deep breath, ‘watching’ the memory attentively as it twisted in her mind. Their father had said to stay... but he hadn’t known where they were. If she’d told their father the night before, if instead of going to bed she’d gone straight to him and told him what they planned, the guards could have stopped her brothers and sister before they even left the bureau, and everything would have been fine. It was her fault they’d gotten out, her fault they hadn’t come back. Her fault they were... wherever they were. Trapped. 

However much they’d wanted to go last night, however confident they’d been in themselves and their decision, her siblings were stuck now. It wasn’t a panicked feeling, particularly, but there was a vague sensation of not being able to go further, out, anywhere. It was muffled, though, and strange... If this was the kind of sensation her father got from objects, Niamh wondered how the hell he managed to understand anything useful out of them. It was all so confused - wordless, random imagery and incoherent impressions, with a dull, weirdly distant emotional quality that felt almost... Almost like the time she’d caught a bad cold, and had to take strong cough medicine so she could sleep. Drugged. That was the feeling. Dizzy, almost, and disconnected. 

_They’re in trouble, and Dad doesn’t know where to find them. If I went back, I could have Liz and Red call him... but what would I say? They’re somewhere in water, and they feel like they’re confused? They’re in the dark, under a city, and and the water is very cold and strange? Not helpful at all. If the feelings she was getting were to be any help, she’d have to go herself._ Niamh paused, her hand on the door of the bedroom she shared with Neasa.

 _Liz and Red are probably listening._ Her father had told them to watch her, to keep her safe.

She opened the door slowly, and then closed it again without going in, and slipped quickly and quietly down the hall. The back way out, the way she and her siblings always used when they wanted to avoid their father, was still open from the night before.

* * *

In another time, Abe would have been fascinated by the extent of the tunnels and pathways that existed down under the city of Brooklyn - stretching out from the Troll Market, they seemed to extend in every direction, almost indefinitely. What was more interesting was that the paths seemed not to follow Human logic or, in fact, any kind of sane progression that Abe could understand - paths that seemed certain to lead them onto a dead end trailed out for miles, and he was almost certain that four turns in the same direction had, in fact, brought them to a completely new area he’d never seen before, rather than taking them back to the beginning as he’d been sure they would. _Magic_ , he reminded himself. _There is a magic here that does not need to be obvious or showy. It’s as natural to Nuala and her people as breathing._

Her people in this case were the eerily silent raven guards. Two walked on either side of Abe and Nuala, huge swords raised while the other four clustered behind them, immense gloved hands on their sword-hilts, at the ready for attack. 

“This part of the tunnels is not well-known to my people,” Nuala murmured, her eyes locked on the small golden globe that floated ahead of them. “We do not travel through here unless we must. Strange things live in the darkness.”

“The perfect place for Nuada to hide, then.” 

Nuala nodded. “He must have known that I would seek him in his usual hiding places first, giving him time to consolidate his power here.”

Something moved in the shadows, and before Abe could even reach for his gun, the two front guards had pushed him and Nuala behind them, their swords high. The stink of carrion, blood, and old wood and leather rolled from them as they moved. Abe stretched, trying to see over the shoulder of the one in front of him, but he could see nothing. 

“What kind of strange things, exactly, were you talking about?” he whispered to Nuala.

Lit only by the gold sphere, now hanging directly above them as though waiting for them to move again, her eyes were huge, the irises only the thinnest possible ring of gold around pupils widened in fear and shadow. “Trolls. Wild fairies that eat flesh and bone. And worse things.”

“Worse things. Oh, good.” 

He really should have known better, Abe realized, than to comment - that did always seem to work as a summoning of sorts for whatever danger was referred to. Sure enough, the guards were suddenly in motion, a thick sound of something jelly-like and strangely creaking moving in front of them, beyond Abe’s sight, and the smell of the raven guards abruptly seemed almost comforting compared to the rancid-sweet stench of whatever they fought. Abe caught Nuala’s hand, squeezing it tightly. 

_At least we have the guards_ , he thought. _I’m sure they can handle... whatever it is._

 _My brother killed eight of them by himself, when he came back to our father’s court_ , was Nuala’s unnerving response.

Three of the six guards fought in front of them, now, and every so often Abe caught a glimpse of the thing - no, _things_ \- that they battled. Their flesh - it didn’t appear to be skin in any way Abe recognized - was dark red shot with yellow and black veining, and the body shape was roughly quadrapedal. Beyond that, he couldn’t see enough detail to be sure of anything, beyond the huge, lidless white eyes that gleamed in the shadows as they attacked. 

The raven guards were powerful, quick on their feet, and unusually graceful for beings of their bulk, particularly factoring in the size of their weapons, which would have been absurd if they hadn’t also been wickedly sharp and coated in the rust-colored remnants of dried blood. Three of them should have been a force strong enough to fight any monsters living in the sewers. But first one, then another fell to the things in the dark, and as two stepped from the back to take their place, Abe finally got a good look at what was attacking them.

It looked like a horse that had been flayed alive. Black blood oozed, and yellow pus and fat deposits hung loose on its flesh. And it was mad with rage. Having never spent time around domestic animals other than Red’s cats, Abe had never considered a horse particularly dangerous. These certainly were. Ragged hooves cut and kicked, and as one bit into the shoulder of one of the raven guards Abe could see long, yellowed teeth that dug deep into flesh and grated against bone, ripping and crushing.

Through it all, the guards made not a sound. The animals made up for their silence with a wailing, creaking sound that was nothing like anything Abe had heard before. 

One of the guards in front of Abe and Nuala fell to his knees. Blood gushed from beneath his black mask, matting the feathery mane that covered his neck. With a screech that reeked of a charnel house, the creatures lunged into the gap.

The first panicked shot from Abe’s gun missed, the second clipped a ragged ear but did no harm. The third, blessedly, exploded in horse-flesh. The sweet-rotting smell grew thicker, and white bone showed through the wound, but the creature lurched onward, eyes huge and rolling, either unable to feel the pain or too wild to care. Abe shot again, into the shoulder this time, just as another creature lashed out and nearly knocked the weapon from his hand. Beside him, Nuala snatched her knife free from its sheath and danced forward, twisting beneath the creature’s flailing hooves and burying the blade deep in the thing’s eye. That, at least, it felt. It roared with fury and threw itself forward again, but before its hooves could connect with her, one of the raven guards shoved Nuala back and took her place, his sword angled across his body. Swinging his weapon in an upward arc, the guard cleaved the rope-like neck of their enemy with one blow. Abe grabbed the opportunity provided by that creature’s fall, and took down its companion with a wild shot to its knee, but it flailed still, shrieking, until the guard cut off its head as well.

For a tense moment, the three waited for another attack. Nothing came. But around them, the bodies of at least four of the creatures steamed in the darkness... and five of the six guards lay dead with their enemies.

Nuala, her eyes distant and cold, wiped her knife on a scrap of fabric offered by the remaining guard, then folded the cloth and, with a slight wince of distaste, handed it back to the guard, who bowed his head and tucked it into his armour.

“I see what you mean about this place,” Abe admitted. 

Nuala shook her head. “There will be worse. We must hurry - if he has spies this far, he’ll know we’re coming now.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severely screwed up sibling relationship with some fairly strong incestuous overtones. Nothing graphic, but beware.

The rest of the way into the tunnels, they walked three abreast - the tunnels were wide enough for it, by then, and Nuala had found it impossible to convince the last guard - or Abe, for that matter - that she needed to walk in front so that she could see where the golden sphere led them. At last, the path opened out into a cavernous space, in the center of which Nuala could see a body of water surrounded by thin white fingers of stone justting up from the ground. They reminded her eerily of her brother - no wonder that he had chosen this place, when it resonated so clearly with him. Centered as it was amid the fingers of stone, the little lake looked like nothing so much as a jewel held in the palm of a giant white hand. And here, indeed, was their goal. Her sphere of light bobbed quickly, brightening and dimming as though excited, and zipped down to the surface at the center of the lake before abruptly vanishing. 

“That’s it, then?” Abe frowned. “But... an underground pond? The children aren’t like me, they can’t--”

A sick feeling twisted in Nuala’s stomach, but before she could winnow out its source, another sensation overwhelmed it. One that brought with it familiarity, and fear.

“There you are, dear sister.” 

Nuada slipped out of the shadows like a phantom, his white hair and skin stark against the black of his clothes and the surrounding darkness. Only one square of the cavern was lit from above, a gridwork of dim sunlight allowed in by a vent or grate of some kind. Nuada stalked around the edges of that light like a creature that had come to fear it. “I wondered when you might grace my humble abode with your presence. Were you really so busy ruling our kingdom that it took you this long? Or, ah - did you wait for your Abraham? What a surprise, to see _you_ again. And without your demon friend to defend you.” Nuada smiled - the smile of a wolf that sees a wounded deer, Nuala thought, and shuddered. He thought them both weak, and he was right. In battle, neither of them could stand against him, but at that moment her fury and rage against what he had done were so great that she did not at all care.

“Give me my children back, brother.”

Nuada smiled and held out his hand to her. “Orders between us? Sweet sister, when has it come to this? Once you stood beside me gladly, called me your dearest friend... when did the bond between us grow so sour?”

“When you kidnapped my children,” Nuala replied, knowing only too well that to bring up other injuries and indiscretions would only let him distract her from the current crisis. “Give them back, now.”

Nuada held his hands open in front of him, a cold smile on his lips. “They are yours to take. But I wonder - you left them in the world of the Humans so long! I thought perhaps you had forgotten them, as you forgot me.”

Nuala shook her head - she refused to be distracted or disoriented by his arguments. “They weren’t forgotten, Nuada. They were cared for, and I had the business of the court that you abandoned to deal with. The court of our father whom you killed.”

“It was self-defense, as you recall. What brother would do less, to protect his only beloved sister? You know I have always loved Father with all my heart, but he would have murdered us both.” Nuada raised his arms in an elegant shrug. 

“Executed,” Nuala corrected. “And, as I told you then, I agreed with him. I would die a thousand times to prevent the pain you would have brought to the world.”

“Hmm.” A wry smile touched Nuada’s blackened lips. “Be careful, sister - you may yet live to do exactly that. If our people will not give us peace in death, I see no end for us but to continue this dance forever.” 

Nuala shook her head. “I don’t want to argue about this, brother. Give me my children.”

“And then what?” Nuada gestured at the guard. “You will set _them_ on me, as Father did? You saw yourself how well that served him. Or you will lock me away again, as you did before? And then what? If you hurt me, you hurt only yourself, and you have seen that if you lock me away, I have only to wait while the Humans’ destruction undoes your work. You fight a losing battle. But if you stood _with_ me, sister, rather than against me, we could raise our kingdom back to its former glory. We could rule side by side, the night and the day, and you would never again have to fear.”

A thousand moments of the past spread over a thousand years and more arrayed themselves across Nuala’s memory, and white-hot fury coated her throat. Long ago, so long ago, those words would have meant something to her. In those days, her brother had truly been her best and most beloved friend, her hero, the only person in the world she loved, trusted and relied on more than their father. They had grown up together, shared all their days, and she had never once thought that it would ever be otherwise - the future he painted of the two of them ruling side by side had been the only life she had ever needed to imagine, until war came to Bethmoora. Human greed had grown quickly to challenge the borders they had held sacred since the beginning, and when Prince Nuada led the knights of their kingdom against the enemy, Nuala had rode out to the fields of battle with her brother, to support and aid him as she could. So much destruction had come on them in those days, so many battles lost and so many lives of noble knights who should have lived centuries untold cut short by the brutish, weak hordes of Humanity. They were like insects - each one small and easily defeated, but in their numbers so vast that the knights of fairy-kind could not hold against them.

And as this happened - as daily their losses increased and the lines of their enemies pushed further and further into the forests and fields that had always belonged to their kingdom, Nuala saw her brother change. So much depended on him, as their father’s second in command, and he could speak none of the fears and pain that he felt to his knights. They did not need a man, a creature like them who felt the pain of wounds, of blisters on his feet and a dull, unending ache in his limbs, or who looked with pity and horror on a dying companion. They needed a prince and a captain who never wavered, never doubted, never looked at the dead and dying at his feet and saw in them living things just like himself, who had only fought for their own kings and kingdoms. And, being loyal and courageous, Nuada became that thing that his father and his men needed him to be. He put his heart away in a place where it could not be touched during the day, and showed it only in the evening, when he came and sat by Nuala in her tent, and at last could let go of his sorrows and fears to the one other being in the world from whom he could not ever hide them.

“Father is afraid we will fail,” he told her one night as she bandaged his arm with a long scrap of silk. Her own arm ached from the same wound as she bent over him, tying the bandage tightly and brushing a bit of hair back out of her brother’s face. 

“He will find a way. We all will,” Nuala assured him, turning to set aside the ripped tunic that he’d been wearing. She was sure she could mend the sleeve where it had been cut, but the blood that had soaked it would be another matter. It might be wiser to rip it up for bandages. Still, Nuada had hardly any clothes with him that were not torn, cut, filthy and bloodied. None of them had, anymore - her own, as well, were destroyed by the hours she spent tending the wounded, and by the same wounds that cut into her brother. “Even now Father is in council with the elders of the tribes--”

“And if they come to nothing that will bring us victory?”

“We have never before been defeated, brother.”

“We have never before fought a war on this scale,” Nuada reminded her. “Nor against an enemy so wracked by greed and avarice and the urge to destroy. Nuala, I fear for us... for you, in particular, if the battle tomorrow goes ill. Their lines are close to us, now, but we cannot give them the satisfaction of seeing us retreat, nor suffer the humiliation that it would bring to our warriors. These Humans, sister... the things I have seen on the field of battle...” 

“I see them, too, brother,” she reminded him gently, sitting before him and curling her feet under her gown for warmth. 

Nuada reached out, idly stroking her hair while he stared fixedly into the brazier before them. “War ruins those who fight it, sister. The things that I have seen... the things I have done...”

“In protection of our lands and people.”

“It matters not. Yesterday, I killed three dozen men, women, and children. Humans, yes, but they were living, breathing things who had families, who loved and hated, laughed and wept just as we do. I remember when I would have broken my own sword rather than do such things as I have done in these past days.”

“They would do no other to us--”

“And that is why I must speak to you of this, sister, though it pains us both.” Nuada took her chin gently between his fingers, tilting her head up to look him in the eyes. “I know you see what I have seen, what I have done, and I know it must grieve you - I feel your heart ache for them. And where once it would have stayed my hand to think of you so, I know now that it must only give me courage. The weak and innocent suffer so much when they are brought into battle, Nuala, and the things these creatures would do to you, if they found you... if you were to stray beyond our camp, or if they were to break into it...”

“Hush, brother, please...” Nuala twined her fingers with her brother’s, cupping his hand against her cheek. “Let us not speak of these things--”

“No, we must. I must. It is my responsibility, and out of the love I bear for you I cannot ignore it.” 

“Brother--”

“Hush.” His hand tightened, clutching painfully at her jaw. “It is my duty to protect you always,” he hissed. “Sweet sister, I should kill you rather than let those creatures touch you. That is what a good brother would do. You haven’t seen, you cannot know, the pain they bring to their victims, the suffering that comes to women when they’re captured in battle. These animals don’t follow rules like we do - they know nothing of honor. They would not hesitate to use you, to violate you if they found you... if we were to fail, and you to fall into their hands...” He shook his head, and suddenly pulled her closer, grabbing her hair with his other hand and clutching it so tightly that it pulled, a ripping pain in her scalp that caused her to wince and for tears to well in her eyes, if they had not already been gathering there in fear and confusion. 

“Better you should die at a brother’s hand,” he continued, releasing her jaw and pulling his sword from its golden scabbard, “than suffer at the hands of our enemies. It will be quick, I promise it. It will be painless, and you will suffer no more from this unholy war.”

Panic gripped at Nuala's heart as she struggled against his grip. “No, brother, no! Please... Please, let me go. Don’t do this...”

“Why not? Would you prefer to be taken by our enemies?” Nuada clenched harder at her hair, the blade of his sword at her throat.

Nuala yelped, and clenched her eyes tightly closed. “Brother, please stop, you’re hurting me! Please, please, don’t do this!” 

“You must be brave, Nuala, like the queens of legend! Aine of the golden hair, and Eressea, our grandmother who went with her husband to battle against the giants when the world was young - remember the stories? They would rather have died than be taken captive, given as slaves to the hands of their enemies.”

“And I would, I would, I swear, but there is no need yet! Brother - please! Please, let me go...” Tears overtook her then, and she cried desperately, her eyes still scrunched tight against the flickering light of the brazier nearby that glittered off Nuada’s sword and his wild, unfocused eyes.

“Shhhhhhhh....” The pressure on her hair released, and with it the slick heat of the blade disappeared. She heard a faint swish as he set the thing down on the rugs that lined her tent, and then felt him hug her to his chest, nuzzling the crown of her head. “Hush, sweet sister. Don’t cry...”

Nuala bit her lip to keep her sobs silent, but cried out her heart against his tunic, lost in terror and sorrow. Nuada held her for a long while, stroking her hair and whispering to her as though comforting her after any other hurt - as though he had no concept of the fact that he himself had been the cause of her fear and panic. When at last he seemed content that he had calmed her fears away he left, and Nuala sat quietly, as still as a bird who fears it has been sighted by a fox. She waited in the dark for an hour, sure that he would return, and then at last summoned her courage and called out to her guard, and made up a lie about a nightmare that had wakened her from sleep, and begged the guard to stay with her the rest of the night. The guard had complied, and Nuala had never spoken a word of the incident to father or court, or any other living soul, but in that night her confidence had been shattered, and her love for her brother twisted for the first time with genuine fear. The first, but far from the last.

And he had the audacity to tell her that at his side she would have nothing to fear? 

“All I have feared in this world for years has been you,” she snapped. “You _were_ my fear.”

Her brother frowned. “How can that be? I _am_ you. You and I--”

“ _No._ ” 

Nuada looked shocked at this, and wounded - hurt as Nuala had never seen him hurt by pain, or by any other words in all their long lives. “We _are one_. One body, one blood, one mind. You know that - by all that’s holy, it’s been shown to you with every wound I took on the field of battle that cut into you as well, every scar cut into our flesh, every--” He snorted indignantly and shook his head. “No, sister. You lie to yourself alone if you say this, because I know better. I know you are me, and I you, and I know that we can only be great together. We can only be _whole_ together. This foolish game you’ve played, pretending to be queen alone and taking this... creature, this pet of Humans, into your bed - it’s all worth nothing. If you would only see that--”

“ _No!_ ” Nuala swept forward in a single movement, her knife in her hand again before she knew she meant to pull it, raised to her brother’s throat. She ignored the sharp prick of pain to her own neck as she pressed the tip into his skin. Such a superficial injury wouldn’t matter to him - he was a warrior, trained and inured to pain, but it _would_ get his attention. “You don’t understand, you’ve _never_ understood. I would rather die - I would rather _all_ our people die - than live in the world of blood and dishonor that you would create. You are _wrong_ , brother. Once upon a time it was not your fault that you were so twisted by revenge, but that time is long since past. Tell me, _where are my children?_ ” 

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Nuada laughed, not even bothering to try to hold her away. “Sister, I know you are not so foolish as that.”

“No, brother. I will not kill you. That was my mistake last time. This time, I know better.” 

From her cloak, Nuala removed a long chain of what looked like plain silver, as fine as a single hair. Her brother laughed again, but Nuala ignored him and draped the silver chain around his shoulders. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he moved as if to struggle, but it was too late. Nuala bound the chain around him, and then gave one push with her hand - light as batting a feather out of the air. Nuada, bound fast by the chain, fell to his knees before her.

“Now. My children. Tell me - where are they?”

“What is this, sister? What... would you bind your own brother in cold iron? You will feel that burn the same as I do--”

“Don't be foolish. It’s not iron, Nuada. It’s the finest chain the dwarf-blacksmiths can make - the same forges that made that army you were so eager to command. You know how they guard their secrets - even I don’t know everything in it or every trick they used to forge a chain so fine and strong. But I know there is spider’s silk in it, that it was forged under a new moon, in a fire that has burned since before our father took his throne, and quenched in a spring so pure that none but their highest artisans know its location. And I know that it will hold you, brother. I know it will keep you until I find a better way to ensure you never threaten my family and my people again.”

Now, at last, her brother’s eyes began to show fear. “Sister, please--”

“No.” Nuala stood up, looking sadly down at him. “You’ve had so many chances to change. And I’ve given up being sorry for what you could have been, if hatred hadn’t poisoned you so. No more.”

“Nuala?” another voice called.

She looked up. Abraham knelt on the white rocks at the edge of the lake, looking down into the water. 

“I think I’ve found them...”

“Guard my brother,” Nuala ordered over her shoulder to the guards as she hurried to the ladder. “If he starts to move too much, tighten the chain until he can’t move at all.” 

At the edge of the lake, Abe had squatted down to see better into the water, so low that his face nearly touched it, and was watching with a sick expression as faint, silvery shapes moved in the darkness below. “Nuala, is it possible...?”

Fear froze Nuala’s fingers and blood. She reached down and touched the surface with the tips of her fingers. The water was cold and strange, but more important than that, she felt something familiar. Something flickered at the back of her mind with that merest of contacts. “He’s changed them. My brother has changed them into fish. Our children...” Nuala stood up and turned back toward the sandy area where she’d left her twin. “Turn them back, brother, or there will be a reckoning between us!"

Nuada's lips twisted in an unpleasant smile. "A reckoning? Sister, I think your new place in the court has given you too much pride. But I will indulge you, as I’ve always to do. Unbind me and I may do as you bid. Leave me here, and I certainly cannot.”

“No. No, no...”

“Can’t you...?” Abe asked her, looking confused.

“No! I don’t know how he did it, I don’t know what he used or what, exactly, the spell is doing to them. If I try, and something goes wrong, I could hurt them, even kill them! There’s nothing I can do!”

“Nuala, please, there must be some way--”

From another direction than the one they’d came, an echoing voice called out, “Dad?”

Abe’s head snapped up to attention at the sound. “Niamh? What are you doing here?”

“I thought--ah!”

“Niamh!” Abe was on his feet and running before Nuala could react, racing over the rocks toward the newcomer’s voice. Nuala followed, coming around a large rock outcrop to see a young woman staring in shock at the remaining guard and the chained Nuada. The young woman, though...

“I’m all right,” the girl told Abraham as he caught her arm, pulling her away from Nuada’s chained form. “I’m sorry, I just... who _are_ these people? And what... _what_ is _he?_ ” she added, pointing at the raven guard with visible horror marked on every angle of her youthful face.

“One of your mother’s guard. Niamh, how did you get here? I told you to stay at home - why did you disobey me?”

“I remembered... well, sort of. I mean, I... remembered what they remembered. Alastar and Neasa and everyone, I mean, and I thought... It was all my fault, Dad. I should have told you right away, when they told me they were going--”

“So _you_ decided to leave, and follow them, alone. Niamh, I--” Abe paused a moment. Nuala could see his gills fluttering in agitation even as she clambered over the rocks to join them. “I’m very disappointed in you. You could have been killed.”

“Abraham?” Nuala touched his arm, desperate for the contact that would clarify her confusion. “This can’t be... Oh, no...”

“Nuala? What’s wrong?”

Now that Nuala could see her, there was no doubting the girl’s identity even without the confirmation from Abe’s mind. The girl in front of Nuala was a perfect blend of her own features and Abraham’s. Skin of pale blue, large almond-shaped eyes the same configuration as Abe’s, but colored a dark amber more like Nuala’s own, and delicate pink gills at her throat that flickered even more quickly than Abe’s.

“Niamh,” Nuala breathed. Her hand stretched out as if on its own. “How can this be?”

The girl glared, and turned away. “They’re over here, Dad - in that pond thing. I can feel it in... in my head, sort of. It’s so deep and cold...”

“The water down here doesn’t get warmed by the sun like water above,” Abe explained. 

Niamh frowned. “You knew they were here? But how...”

“We just found them.”

“Then why haven’t they come out?”

Abe frowned, looking back toward the lake. “I’m afraid... They’ve been changed into fish.”

“Oh.” Niamh blinked, a very Abe-like expression that made the shock of the situation sting Nuala anew.

“Abraham,” she said softly. “How long has it been, since I sent the children to you?”

“What?”

“How long?”

He tilted his head at her. “Thirteen years yesterday. Didn’t you...?”

Nuala shook her head, mute with horror. Thirteen years. She turned to Niamh, to the child she’d last seen as nothing more than a tiny shape encased in amber jelly... and met an expression of burning hatred.

“You never even _knew_ ,” the girl snapped. “I knew it! You didn’t even think of us at all! Not once, how could you--you weren’t even keeping track of the time!”

“Time moves differently in my world,” Nuala said. “I didn’t know... I thought only a year had passed!”

“And that made it okay?” Niamh snorted, her face a mask of haughty teenage scorn. “I’m going over there, Dad. I should be with them. There’s gotta be a way...” She trailed off, shaking her head, and stalked away. 

“She’s just angry,” Abe offered. “We had no idea...”

“Nor did I. Don’t worry, Abraham - I don’t blame her.” Quite the opposite, in fact - knowing now how long she’d abandoned both Abraham and her children, Nuala wondered if it might have been better for them if she’d never reappeared. If not for Nuada’s interference, perhaps it would have been for the best if she’d never come back to them. Thirteen years might be nothing to an elf, but in the human world she knew it could be quite a lot of time. If her brother hadn’t stolen them away... “We should go with her, and see what we can do.”

“Nuala--”

“We’ll talk about it later, Abraham. Now, our children need us.”

At the edge of the lake, Niamh leaned over the shoreline, one hand stretched down into the water below. Occasionally, a silvery shape glinted in the darkness, and once a rounded mouth plucked at her finger before disappearing again into the murky depths. “That's them? They’re all in there?” she asked as her father knelt beside her. 

He glanced at Nuala, who nodded. 

“Are we sure? I mean... these could just be fish, couldn’t they? They could be somewhere else down here. I could have been wrong.”

Abe shook his head. “We used a spell to track them all here.”

“Then why can’t _she_ do a spell to change them back?”

Nuala knelt down, too, and tried to pretend not to notice that Niamh shifted away from her as soon as she did. “I don’t know what kind of spell my brother used on them. If I tried the wrong counter-spell, I could hurt them, even kill them.”

“Right.” Niamh turned to her father again. “What about people back at the bureau? Eve could look at them...”

“We don’t have a way to get them back to Eve,” Abe pointed out. “We weren’t expecting them to be transformed, and I don’t want to leave them here while we go for help. We don’t know what might happen, or how they might be affected if they remain fish for too long.” 

“Well, there must be something we can do!” Niamh threw her hands in the air. “All those stories you told us, all the books you read to us, Dad... You always go on about our ‘special heritage’ as though it’s something really unique and wonderful. But the minute we need it - the minute we need _her_ \--Nothing! She can’t even undo a stupid spell that her own brother cast! I thought you two were supposed to have some kind of weird mystic bond or something - can’t you just reach into his head and _take_ whatever he did to them?”

Nuala stared at the young woman before her... at her daughter. Her daughter, her dark gold eyes wild with the sort of passion and courage that Nuala herself had only recently begun to uncover in herself after years of hiding in shadows. Even in those safe and silent sanctuaries, protected by her father’s power, veiled as much as he could manage from her brother’s influence, she had always been too afraid to speak her mind openly, to _feel_ anything but fear and duty and quiet resignation. And here was this young creature, unmarked and untouched by the darkness of the court, who demanded something more. What could she do but try?

“Stay with them, Abraham. I’ll see what I can do. I must talk to Nuada.” 

Abe rose swiftly to his feet. “If you’re going to talk to him, I’m coming with you.”

“No. If you’re with us, he’ll find a way to use you against me. I cannot risk that. I simply will not. Stay with Niamh and the others. They need you.” She tried to smile. “This should not be dangerous, Abraham. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“He has used my mind against me all our lives, opening it and removing whatever information he wishes. It's long past time he learned what that is like.”

“Nuala...” Abe’s eyes, normally dark, seemed as endless as the night sky in what little dim light was available in the cavern. 

More than anything Nuala wanted to submerge herself in those eyes, to forget everything, all her troubles and responsibility... but that option wasn’t open to her anymore. _My people need me. My children need me. It’s too late to let myself falter in weakness any longer._ “We don’t have time to argue, Abraham. Let me do what I can.”

She was relieved, however, that Abraham didn’t insist on touching her hand then - she knew it would be more difficult than she’d let him know. And Nuada’s expression as she approached him only confirmed this. He had the look in his eye of a wolf caught in a trap - one that knows the hunter will have to come close to do anything further, and then can be bitten. 

”I knew you would not stay away long,” he said. 

“I have not come to free you. I’ve come to find out how you changed my children.”

His smile was sharp as a blade. “Release me and I will tell you.” 

Nuala shook her head. “I don’t need you to tell me, Brother. I only thought I would give you one last chance to tell me freely.”

Nuada laughed softly. “Anything for you, sister. You know that. But only if you unbind these chains first.”

“I don’t need to.”

Almost as long as she could remember, Nuala had done her best to veil her thoughts from her brother. Their father had taught her, using his own power to build a barrier between them when Nuada was out fighting. She had still felt the pain of his injuries, the indignity and frustration of his anger, the bitter pride, but she had felt it from a distance. His wounds were hers, but she had not been forced to feel the full brunt of them, as long as their father had been there to shield her. That protection had grown ever more important after the war with the Humans, when Nuada’s wounded pride had caused him to lash out at their remaining people and cast himself alone into the wilderness beyond the court. When he could, he had edged into her mind, tormented her with the knowledge of what had happened to him on the battlefield, of the injustice and cruelty he saw in the world beyond the court. 

And as much as he had protected her from her brother’s thoughts, their father had protected her from his prying. He had given her, in the years of Nuada’s exile, some thin veil of privacy within her own mind, and she had treasured that luxury. With his death, that freedom had died too, until Nuada’s imprisonment restored a modicum of it to her life. Encased in a casket of silver bound in living wood, he could not reach her mind as clearly has he had before. Even at her best, however, Nuala had never attempted to look the other way. She had never tried to seek in _his_ mind. She knew only too well what she would find there, and the idea of going to that willingly made her skin tingle with fear. And yet, for her children, how could she not?

 _No more games. No more warnings, or pleading._ Nuala knelt beside her brother, and clasped his hands, still bound against his sides. 

The flood of sensation and thought was nearly overwhelming. Images of battle and suffering, of the dark shadows and bright edges that filled her brother’s mind, rushed on her so strongly that she could taste the metallic tang of blood in her own mouth, feel it sticky and hot on her skin, hear the sickening crunch of bone and the rip of sinew, the sweet, high whistle of the blade through the air. She saw the old war again, all those moments their father had guarded her against, and felt keenly Nuada’s frustrated rage as he looked out on the fields of battle. Their own warriors, tall and proud, strewn on the ground like fallen leaves. Faces she knew, noble warriors who should have lived a thousand lives of Men, cut short on that field for no more than arrogance and avarice. Their kind was a blight on the world - they would never be satisfied, never content until they had devoured all the beauty of the world in their greed, and then they would wonder why there was no more. What right had they? 

And what right had _he_ , their father - king though he was - to make peace with these tiny, grasping creatures who had destroyed so much, who showed not the slightest understanding of honor? 

In the jumble, too, was everything he had seen during his exile - the wanton destruction of forest and field, the pact of honor for which the humans had begged now utterly forgotten. And in it all, she felt the brother she distantly remembered - the good, honorable brother who had fought so long and so hard to defend his kingdom, who had _truly_ loved her as he so often said he did now, hollow with his hate. She felt his sorrow and his desperation, and his determination to make it all right, somehow, in _any_ way. Even if he had to die for it. Even if he had to kill for it. 

_The world will never be ours again. But they will have no joy of it, and they will pay in blood for their lack of honor._

She saw her past - _their_ past, together, the times when they had been as one, and the time when that bond had failed forever.

* * *

Nuada looked like some kind of great cat lounging on his throne, blood-sated and content to watch the world go by him until the next opportunity for a kill. His long legs stretched out before him, looking relaxed for the first time in years now that the Humans’ defeat was certain. Every day and night another legion of the Humans’ forces were crushed by the golden soldiers, another of their villages turned to dust under the shining golden feet. A servant passed by and re-filled Nuada’s cup with mead, and he smiled indulgently at her, then turned the expression on Nuala. “Come, sister, you’ve hardly touched your food. Finish your supper, and we shall have the musicians play something to dance to.”

“I do not wish to dance,” Nuala said softly.

“Nonsense! This is a night of celebration - we are at last winning our war! Are you not happy?”

Nuala closed her eyes, her face turned down so that her brother could not see her pain. “I find it hard to rejoice in death, brother - even the deaths of our enemies.”

“And that is good, in you - it is noble that you cannot see the suffering even of the worst the world offers without feeling it yourself. I do not mean to pain you, sister. But you know this is for the best. They would destroy everything fair in our world - everything beautiful that you love, sweet sister. Our groves and forests, our beautiful streams and rivers... would you lose all of that, just to spare a few dirty farmers their quick deaths? At least this way they will not suffer and die slowly, as they always have done on their own. Think of it as a mercy, if it spares your heart some pain for them.”

“I cannot see war as a mercy, brother,” Nuala protested. “They are being crushed like insects under the feet of our creations.”

“And insects they are. A pestilence that would have eaten all the beauty in our world.” Nuada scowled to have his good humour challenged, and then deliberately took another deep draught of his mead and picked up the pitcher himself and refilled the cup, bringing it to Nuala. “Drink, sister. It will warm you, and make you less prone to sulk. I don’t think I’ve seen you happy in years - you’ve grown into an ill-tempered, melancholy woman so unlike the girl I used to know.”

“I’m sorry, brother.” She turned her face away. “I don’t want to drink.” 

“And _I_ do not want to see you fade away in the corner of the room all night, drowning yourself in pity for our unworthy enemies.” Nuada pushed the cup to her lips, his hand catching her hair to keep her from pulling away. “ _Drink._ ”

Around them, the conversations of courtiers, guards, and servants all died down as everyone stared in shock at the crown prince and princess, locked in obvious argument. 

_Drink from the cup, sister, or I shall force you to. You know that I can. Do not embarrass yourself and our father - see how everyone looks at us, already? Laugh, pretend it was a joke, and drink._

The people around them were beginning to look nervous. How could a king be trusted when his own children fought in his hall? How could a prince be respected when his sister clearly cringed from his touch, or a princess be loved when she behaved like a cold fish on a night of celebration? Nuala stifled a shudder, and then forced a smile and took the cup from her brother’s hand and pretended to drink deeply. Really she pressed her lips tightly so that only the smallest drop of mead passed between them and burned her tongue. Nuada laughed as though it was all a game between them, squeezing her shoulder with apparent affection - and rather too much strength, in truth. _Truly drink, sister. Do not just pretend, or I swear that I shall make you regret it._

Nuala flinched, but lifted the cup again and took a deep sip. 

_Good. Finish it._

The cup was nearly full and very strong for table use, making it more wine than Nuala preferred to drink at a time, particularly on how little she’d eaten that day, but with Nuada watching her closely and seeing into her mind, she had no choice but to follow his instructions. She drained the cup, and then stood up and curtsied, handing it back to him. 

“Ah, sister, where are your manners! Would you hand your brother an empty cup on a night of revelry?” Nuada laughed, and the courtiers with him, but Nuala could easily see that he was not going to let this go, either. 

“Of course not, brother.” She beckoned a servant over, took the jug from his hand and carefully filled Nuada’s cup, then presented it to him with all the ceremony of a lady welcoming an honoured guest. “Be well, brother.” If only such a simple wish could truly change him, she thought, and then stifled the thought quickly before Nuada could read it in her mind.

Nuada raised the cup in acknowledgement, announcing, “To your health and happiness, sweet sister,” and then drained the cup and tossed it thoughtlessly aside. “There. Come, now. No more arguments. Dance with me.”

“There are other ladies--” Nuala looked out over the court, assembled for revelry and dressed in their finest clothes. 

Nuada followed her glance, and let his face twist in a sour grimace. “There are indeed many fine ladies here, but I care not for any of them. Come, Nuala! Am I not the son of the king? Should I not have the fairest partner in the hall? And that is you, sister, and always will be. Dance with me.” He laughed - a harsh, cruel sound. “Come, harpers! For what do we have bards here in my father’s hall but to make glad music on the night of our victory! Play something lively! Ah - I shall tell you what will encourage you. To the harper who gives us a song as lovely as my sister, I shall give a cup of pure gold!”

“Brother, we _have_ no more gold,” Nuala hissed. “You sent it all away to be made into metal soldiers to fight our war.” 

But Nuada waved off her complaint, unconcerned. “There will be more gold. And in any case, only the harper of the gods could match you, Nuala, and I see none so holy among these fools here tonight. Come - take my hand, and show these coarse peasants what true beauty looks like! We shall make them all despair of their art.”

In front of all the court, with everyone watching them closely thanks to her brother’s theatrics, Nuala had no choice but to accede. She accepted her brother’s hand and let him lead her out to the center of the room, and waited, tensed and fearful, while the harpers conferred. Nuada’s body was too close, too warm, his breath too heavy with wine... and with ale before that, she realized as he leaned close. The smell made her feel ill, and his hand clasping too tightly at her waist made her feel as though it was soon to squeeze the breath from her. 

The musicians struck up a lively air just as Nuada had requested, and Nuala was grateful for long years of dancing that made her feet meet the music lightly even as her heart and mind pulled away in silent, frozen panic. There was something in her brother that night - something beyond the ale and wine that made him capricious and cruel. His victory over the Humans had released the side of him she had hoped would disappear when they were all free from the fears of war. If their father were there, Nuala thought, she could have gone to him, hidden at his side and insisted that she had no heart for dancing that night. He would have defended her, and insisted that her brother choose another partner. At least she hoped he would have. But here there was no one else to stand against Nuada’s temper, and Nuala herself had seen too often what happened when she tried that. Perhaps if she feigned illness in a short while--

 _Still thinking of escape, sister?_

Hot shame and frustration caught at her mind. Nuada had never used their connection so freely as this before the war. _Of course not._

 _Indeed._ He caught her arm, spinning her lightly in an elegant arc that just _happened_ to twist her arm at a painful angle. It could easily have been an accident - at any other time, Nuala would have been certain it had been. With any other partner, she would have excused the slight injury with a laugh, and refused even to accept the apology it would no doubt have engendered - such things did happen in a dance, after all. But tonight, with Nuada in the mood he was in... 

“You should take more care, sister. Are you well?” _Say you are fine._

“I am fine, brother.” Nuala stretched out the arm, hiding a wince at the pain. “Don’t worry.”

“As you say, then. If you are sure, let us continue.”

The pain was nothing - it was only a slight twist, and Nuala was sure that she would not even feel it the next morning. But the ease with which Nuada had caused it twisted her stomach with fear and disgust with herself - and yet there was nothing that could be done. He was in a perfect place of power, here, with everyone in the court standing behind him, the holy prince who had led their armies to victory, their king’s only son. As loved as Nuala was by the people, it was Nuada they trusted and looked to for future leadership. And he was too clever at twisting her words, at forcing her to say things she didn’t want to, at tricking her into situations where she could not, for shame, possibly bring herself to show what was truly happening between them. And so he pushed, further and further, urged on by the fire of the alcohol in his blood and the seething hatred that seemed to rage ever stronger in his stomach. 

As the first song ended and the next was struck, more couples joined them on the floor and filled the air with laughter and light conversation that floated over and through the music. Nuala started to pull away, but was stopped by her brother’s tight grasp on her hand, and his other hand still holding firmly to her waist. 

_Don’t walk away. We are not done yet._

Summoning her courage, Nuala looked him straight in the eyes. _I am. You are drunk, brother. You should go back to your room and sleep._

“Do you think you can tell me what to do, sister?” His hands on her waist and hand tightened sharply. Small bones in her fingers pressed together painfully. 

“I think I can offer a wise suggestion. That is all.” 

“And I think your suggestion is not wise. What do you say to that?” A slight twist in his fingers, invisible to anyone else but horribly painful to Nuala, accompanied his words, grinding the bones in her wrist against one another. 

“You are probably right...”

“Probably?” Another, barely perceptible twist. 

“Certainly,” Nuala gasped. “I’m sorry, brother. Please... please, let me go. I am... tired...”

“Leave, now? And let you miss the rest of the festivities? Sister, I could never live with myself if I allowed you to walk away now. Another song!” Although the musicians were already in the middle of a song, they immediately responded to their prince’s call for a new one, starting up another tune as light as a spring morning, with a flute that sang like a bird. Nuada laughed. “This is better! This is a fine piece - much better than that last one! This will lighten your heavy feet, sister!” 

They had learned to dance together, Nuala and her twin - as children they had taken lessons from the best dance-masters in the court, and always received the highest praise for their light steps, graceful movement, and for how well they complemented each other. It was only natural, of course, given that each knew the other’s mind nearly as well as their own, and was aware of each other, in the same way that other dancers were aware of their own arms and feet. As they’d grown, Nuada’s grace and sure-footedness had been a boon to him on the battlefield, giving him the confidence in his own body that many young knights could only imagine, and Nuala too had learned from that experience, through his mind. In the early days, they had shared easily back and forth, always aware of each other, always learning and appreciating the world from another perspective. It kept them balanced, their father had said with a fond smile - Nuala’s gentleness counteracting her brother’s temper, even as her brother’s force of personality and strength leant Nuala a passion that would otherwise have been subdued. Nuala herself had always been unsure of this, but if it pleased their father to think this was the case, then she was not willing to disabuse him of the notion.

Now, even as their dance became more a battle than an art within their minds, through centuries of practice together, their footwork was perfect, their bodies moved together like the notes of a melody so perfect that nothing disturbed its elemental harmony. _Forget_ , Nuala told herself. _Let yourself be lost in the music - don’t think of how strangely Nuada has been behaving lately, or how you fear what he will do next, if you upset him. Think only of the song, of the dance, and let yourself be lost. Let Nuala cease to be. Be only the music and the dance._ Of course he heard her thought, and she saw a small smile touch his lips when she thought it, but he seemed more amused than angered by her trick, and he said nothing, nor did anything to stop her.

And for a while, it worked. But only for a while. But Nuada seemed unwilling to tire, and his drunken enthusiasm was too much for Nuala - as the dances dragged on from one to the next, she began truly to grow tired, and her brother refused to slow for her.

“Brother, please - let me rest,” Nuala begged as yet another song began. “The other ladies of the court will be insulted if you do not allow them their turn to dance with you,” she added, hoping to appeal to his pride and sense of propriety at once. 

“I told you, sister, there is no other partner worthy of my attention. Tonight of all nights, I will dance with none but the fairest lady in the court.”

“You shouldn’t say such things,” Nuala told him. She tried to make her voice speak more of maidenly shyness than of the worrying feeling that twisted her stomach when her brother spoke that way, but it seemed that she did not succeed. 

Nuada immediately frowned at her. “Do you fear me, sister?”

“Of course not,” Nuala replied quickly, fearing his reaction if he learned the truth. “I could never. You are my twin.”

“You do. You fear me.” He was no longer dancing, and the people around them were beginning to take notice of their conversation. Embarrassed, Nuala caught her brother’s arm and tugged him gently toward the side of the hall, but he ripped his arm from her grasp with an angry motion. “Stop that. Don’t pretend that everything is all right and that I am a child to be led around our father’s hall. You are _afraid_ of me, sister. How can you be so cruel? I have only ever thought of you with love. Everything I do is for you.”

“I know, brother,” Nuala soothed. “I know. I’m sorry. It is only the wine, and how tired I feel. It is nothing. Come - you should go to bed. You are overtired from the long, hard battles that led up to today, and you’ve had a great deal of wine. You will feel better in the morning.”

“I feel fine now,” he groused. “You are the one behaving strangely, Nuala. I don’t know when you became so cold and distant.”

“You’re right, of course,” Nuala agreed, pushing aside the memories of all the times in their recent past that had led to this fear in her. “But it is only my worry for our people, brother, I promise you. Now that our war is over--”

Nuada snorted. “War. It is not a war anymore - it is the destruction of pests. We will burn them from the earth.”

“Indeed.” Nuala tugged on her brother’s arm again, gently. “What you say is true. Come. I’ll find one of the guards to help you to your chambers.”

“I don’t need help.” 

“No, but you must not go alone. We are still at war. What if our enemies were to sneak into the hall? They would surely want to assasinate you,” Nuala lied. It was ludicrous, of course, to think of Humans sneaking into the hall - at this point the poor, pathetic creatures would be lucky if they could sneak a few of their women and children and elderly up into the mountains where they might not be found by the golden army for a few months yet. Any more advanced action would surely be far beyond what was open to them at that time. But she hoped to play into Nuada’s paranoia and his sense of his own importance to ensure that he would allow someone to escort him. Otherwise she had no doubt that he would end up in the wrong room, or simply curl up to sleep in a hall somewhere and humiliate their father when word of it came to him the next morning. 

“I do not need a guard. Nor do I want one.”

“But you must not walk alone, brother,” Nuala murmured, trying to keep her voice low enough that the rest of the court would not hear them.

“Then you shall walk with me. I will walk you to your rooms, and you will walk me to mine.” He smiled brightly, and despite her frustration and fear, Nuala could not help but see in him the boy she’d grown up with - the one who had so often been her playmate and companion, not the source of fear and worry that he had become of late. 

“I don’t think that would be wise, brother...”

“Nonsense. What a strange creature you are of late, Nuala, acting as though you’re afraid of your own brother. One might almost think I had threatened you.” 

A strange pain caught Nuala in the gut at that moment - did he mean to remind her of that terrible night months before, or was he even aware of it? Did he remember, or was it another person entirely, as it seemed, who had held his sword to her throat?

If his eyes now spoke the truth, he remembered nothing of it - Nuala saw in him only affection and tired, loving resignation. “You know, sister, that I would never hurt you. Never intentionally. You infuriate me sometimes - you know, to my shame, that I have a terrible temper. It has been so hard for us, of late...” He touched her cheek affectionately. “How can I prove myself to you, sweet sister? I am so sorry for all that I’ve done to frighten you...”

“Of course. Of course. There is nothing to apologize for, brother...” Doubt tugged at her, but what more could she do? He truly had been under so much stress in the past years that anything he had done could hardly be counted his own fault. It was the war. As he had said once, war did terrible things to men, made them do terrible things that they otherwise would never dream of doing. And if the war was now over... wasn’t it best to just forgive and forget? “It was my fault, brother,” Nuala assured him softly, holding his hand so that he could see the honesty of her words. “Forget all - it is already forgiven and forgotten in my heart.”

“Sweet sister. Thank you.”

For a moment they stood together, Nuada’s forehead leaning down against hers, and Nuala breathed deeply, relieved to finally feel again the confidence and comfort she’d known when she was young, safe and contented with her beloved brother. In those days he had been second only to their father as her greatest hero and most devoted guardian and protector. _And it shall be like that again, sister, and never again change_ , his thoughts told her. _I am so sorry that I’ve pained you, these past years._

_All is forgiven, Nuada. All forgotten. Speak never of it again, please - I never shall. Let it be cut wholely from our minds._

_As you say, then, sister. Anything you wish._ He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it fondly, and then laughed under his breath. “I find myself rather in a state, sister. Perhaps I should have heeded your wise words earlier and not had quite so much of our father’s wine.”

“You were right to celebrate your victory,” Nuala told him, squeezing his hand lightly. “Come. We shall walk to our rooms together, as you said.”

“A good night to all,” Nuada wished, raising his hand to the assembled court. The courtiers applauded and cheered them together, and for a glowing moment they stood together and accepted their accolades as one, before bowing and taking their leave. 

They walked in silence for a long while, and if Nuada leaned a bit more on his sister’s shoulder than he usually would have, she forgave it easily - he really was absurdly drunk, but it was charming now, rather than worrying. The poor fellow really needed to learn his limits, she thought. Wherever their father was, he would never have been seen in such a bad way by his court... but what was appalling to the court in a king standing in state, was merely endearing in a young prince who had yet to come into his power. It was best if Nuada was to get this sort of foolishness out of his system now. Even their father had been young, once, Nuala thought with a smile, and probably he had been just as foolish at some time, and done just the same sorts of things.

“Here are your rooms, Nuada. Go, and get some sleep. I’ll speak with you again tomorrow.” Nuala kissed his cheek with affection. 

“No, no... we cannot have the fairest lady in the court walking to her rooms unguarded.” Nuada smiled at his sister. “I think I am not so poorly yet that I cannot walk with you a few more corridors and see you safely locked up in your rooms. I am not the only warrior drinking too much tonight, and I cannot bear the thought of leaving you unguarded outside of your rooms.”

A twinge of nerves assaulted Nuala, but she remembered her brother’s sincere apology of earlier, and pushed it aside, returning his smile. “I don’t think that is necessary, but if it will make you happy, brother--” 

“It will.” 

“Then it pleases me as well.”

They walk together in the darkened corridors, and it was just like the days long past, when they were innocent and trusted each other completely. Nuala found herself feeling light and young for the first time in years. For so long she had feared, so long tamped down on her feelings to keep them from spilling out in a scream that would never end. And Nuada, she sensed, felt the same way - he, too, had worried constantly about letting his feelings out into the world, embarrassing their father by his fear and frustration and anger at all that had gone wrong, all that he had done and could not do to protect their people. She did not like the idea of the golden army - she hated the excess of their destruction, but if their end to the war brought her brother back to her, Nuala thought, she could forgive them every worry.

As they neared the end of the hall and her own door, Nuala turned to her brother with words of thanks and affection on her lips... which were immediately smothered as he pushed her against the wall in a fierce kiss that tasted of sour mead and ale. 

All dignity and shame forgotten in her horror, Nuala pushed against his chest. She tried to scream, but his mouth against hers muffled it completely. And then, just as suddenly, she heard a sound far down the corridor - one of the guards, she thought, moving through the night halls on patrol. Nothing more than a lucky coincidence, but it provided a chance that she gratefully took. Ducking under Nuada’s arm, Nuala ran for the door and shut and barred it behind her and raced to trunk at the foot of her bed, removing a long dagger from it, and held it in front of her with more determination than skill. Long moments she waited, before at last she heard her brother’s footsteps leaving the hall, and she could at last let the dagger slip from bloodless fingers and collapse, shaking and horrified, onto her bed. 

She never slept that night - every sound roused her in terror to hold the dagger, waiting for a pounding on her door or worse, and the next morning at court her father announced that he would call off the golden army’s destruction of the Humans and put them away forever in the halls of the goblin lords who had built them. Nuada argued long and hard with him, and eventually threw down his circlet and announced that he was leaving the court. Nuala kept silent at the court, and stayed close by her father’s side all the long, terrible day, but she was secretly more relieved than she could tell. Now that her brother was leaving, she thought, perhaps she might someday have some peace.

* * *

In the present, Nuala could feel her own thoughts begin to subsume beneath her brother’s, melding and blending until she hardly knew where she began and he ended. This beautiful world, the world their family had tried to safeguard, did it not deserve all their protection? She was the queen, now - surely it was her duty to stand against the destruction that...

So briefly she almost missed it, she caught a flash of an image. A pale blue face face, eyes wide in a sliver of moonlight. One of her children, looking up at Nuada with the sort of innocent trust that only a child could express. The world _did_ need to be safe-guarded - but for _them_ , not for her own nearly vanished people. Certainly not for a vision of the past that could never be regained, or in bloody revenge for that long-past time. 

With that knowledge as her touchstone, Nuala pried deeper into her brother’s mind, following the thread of that thought back until she knew what he had done. It was as clear in her mind as if she’d done it herself. In a way, bonded with him like this, she felt as though she had. She could clearly recall the decisions that had led him there, every moment’s thought and... yes, and doubt. He had doubted, if only for the barest sliver of a moment. And that, perhaps, was another reason to hope.

 _I remember when you were such a man as would never raise a blade to an unarmed opponent_ , Nuala thought. _I remember when, after a hard day of training, you heard my nightmares and woke me, and stayed with me until I slept again so that I wouldn’t fear them. I remember when you were not a monster._

But Nuada made no reply, and there was work yet to be done. Without another word, she delved again into his thoughts, seeking relentlessly for the information she needed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death of a non-canon character.

“I know you feel hurt, Niamh, but--”

“No!” Niamh interrupted. “This is all her fault - how can you keep defending her? She left us - _all_ of us - for thirteen years, and then she got all of them into this. If she’d just stayed in touch for a bit--”

“Or if I had told you more clearly not to trust your uncle?” Abe pointed out.

“You couldn’t know he’d come back,” Niamh grumbled. Even she didn’t seem very convinced by that argument, though. 

“And neither could your mother. She tried to tell us as soon as she knew, but... things happen. The number of times I’ve worried that you children might be killed by something at the bureau--”

“I don’t care! She hasn’t been here - even if you _did_ get us killed, at least you were there for us!”

“Just give her a chance, Niamh. That’s all I’m asking you.”

Niamh snorted. “I’m not a kid, Dad. You want her back. I get that. But it’s obvious that she doesn’t care even a little bit about us, or about you!”

Abe opened his mouth to reply, but another voice cut into the conversation before he could find the words.

“That’s not true.” Nuala climbed over a nearby ridge and knelt on the rocks between the two of them. “I wish I could prove to you, Niamh... The number of times that I’ve wished I could be with you all - you _and_ your father. But the court was anything but a safe place in the recent past. I stayed away in hopes that I could prevent something exactly like what’s happened.”

“And it worked so well,” Niamh pointed out, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Niamh!” Abe scolded, astonished. 

“It’s the truth, Dad. You always _want_ us to tell the truth.”

“Right now, I would settle for manners.”

“Whatever.” Niamh crossed her arms over her thin chest and turned her back on them. 

“Young lady--”

“Not right now, Abraham,” Nuala broke in. “Let her be.”

Abe frowned. “Did you get what you needed from your brother?”

“Eventually.” Nuala shuddered a little at the memories he’d unearthed for her, then pushed them aside. “And I found this in his sash. It’s the powder he used to change them.” 

“Can you use it to make an antidote, then?”

“After a fashion. It helps that we’re both here. Regardless of the form they're in now, they’re still our children, and we should be able to use that to call theirs back to their proper shape. And if Niamh will help...”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do.” Niamh’s voice was wooden, but she sounded determined nonetheless. “For them.”

“Thank you.” 

Niamh shook her head, but only said, “What do we need?”

Nuala plucked a single long hair from her head, wound it once around her finger and tied a knot, and then leaned over the edge of the lake. She called softly, singing in Gaelige for several minutes, until four gaping fish-mouths bubbled out of the water at her as though begging for food. They squirmed on each other, writhing and wriggling, each silver-bronze back catching the light one after another as they pushed to the surface. “Kneel down here, please, and put out your hand, Niamh. Abraham, you as well.” They did as she asked. Nuala held her left hand, with the hair still tied around her ring finger, out over the water, and pulled the knife from her belt with the other. 

“Dad...” Niamh began.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know another way and we don’t have time to search for one. You remember the plant I begged help from earlier? Blood is the greatest gift we can offer.” Nuala cut into the palm of her free hand and squeezed it tight in a fist over her other hand. Amber blood dropped onto the knot around her finger, and slid down it onto the hair. “Abraham?”

Without a word, he held out his hand palm up and fingers flat. 

“I’m sorry.” She made a quick cut across the palm, neatly avoiding his sense organs. Dark blue blood welled above the cut. “Here - we need only a drop, but it must fall on the hair along with mine. And now you you, Niamh,” she added, once Abe had done as she said. 

“What if I won’t?”

“Niamh--”

“No, Abraham. It’s her right to ask.” Nuala turned to her daughter. “If you refuse to help us, your brothers and sister might be lost to us forever. Your father and I would try, of course, but the blood of their sister will call to them even more strongly than either of ours. You are the same blood as them.”

“Worse than the doctors back home,” Niamh grumbled. “Fine.” She held out her hand stiffly, as though it was a challenge as much as an offering. 

“Thank you, Niamh. If it weren’t necessary, I promise you that I would not do it,” Nuala assured the girl in a low voice, and then drew her knife quickly over her daughter’s palm and watched as blood a strange shade of blue-green neither her own nor Abraham’s beaded on the pale blue skin, and then joined her parents’ on the back of Nuala’s hand. It ran down the white hair, mixing with the other two and dripping from the end of the hair into the water. The knife set down on the sand beneath them, Nuala uncorked the tiny vial of powder she’d found in her twin’s sash and poured the glittering remnants into the water,and began to sing again in Gaelige. While Abe couldn’t understand the words, he could see the meaning clear enough in her eyes, in the supplicating posture of her hands and body - she hung over the water like a flower in a storm, her hands held up to what remained of the light from above, and her voice was so soft as to nearly be more breath than words, but determined. 

And yet, nothing happened. There was no movement in the water - they couldn’t even see the silvery shapes they’d glimpsed earlier. They had disappeared again into the depths. Again Nuala repeated the chant, with even more intensity, her fingers shaking as she whispered the words, her voice cracking as she finished. But still, no change was evident. Then, suddenly, a smooth pale blue head broke the surface of the water, gasping. 

“Aedan!” Niamh hurried forward to help her brother climb onto the shore. The boy shivered in the cold air, but he took his sister’s coat gladly and seemed only slightly dazed by the change, not actually harmed. “The others must be changed, too, if it’s worked on him!”

“But where are they?” Nuala peered into the darkness worriedly. A knot of fear was tangling itself in her heart - there was something wrong here, very wrong. Her children could hardly be expected to be as strong of swimmers as their father, being half-Elf - how long could they survive without air? “Abraham...?”

“We’ll have to find the others. Aedan’s always been one of the strongest swimmers out of the children... it was probably easiest for him to find his way out. Niamh--”

“I’m coming.”

Abe nodded sharply. He dove into the lake first, followed quickly by Niamh. Even in haste and fear, Nuala was impressed by their grace underwater - Niamh looked nearly as comfortable swimming as her father, and within an instant they were both little more than faint bluish flashes, ribbon-like in the murky depths. Nuala waited at the edge with her silent and confused son. She couldn’t go in herself for fear of distracting Abe and Niamh with her own awkward attempts, but still felt stricken to stone by her helplessness.

Niamh surfaced first, towing another sputtering but healthy-looking brother. After shaking the water out of his face, he crawled onto the shore and lay on his side, coughing.

"This is Alastar. He'll be fine," Niamh announced after inspecting her brother quickly. "It's just shock, I think, the same as Aedan... the change must have hit them fast. Father's got Neasa with him - she’s one of the strongest swimmers of all of us, and she thinks he knows where Aodh went.”

Meanwhile, her brothers seemed to have roused themselves from their stupor. Aedan leaned forward toward her, staring openly at Nuala. "Niamh... who...?"

Niamh frowned, then reached out and caught her brothers’ hands - a subtle way to use their telepathy, Nuala thought. The boys' eyes widened abruptly.

"Mother?" Aedan gasped.

Nuala's throat closed up, but she nodded.

"But..." Alastar blinked at her, his expression frankly disbelieving.

"Give him your hand," Niamh told her mother briskly. "He won't believe me."

 _I've done wrong by them, to make them doubt me so much_ , Nuala thought. _My own children don't recognize me..._ When she reached out, Alastar twined his fingers eagerly with hers, closing his eyes in concentration, as if to block out everything else. Niamh, Nuala noticed, had released his hand and broken their connection. She was still avoiding contact with Nuala.

 _I'm sorry, Alastar_ , Nuala told him as he sought through her mind. _Truly, I am. I stayed away only to protect you all, but I’m afraid..._

"Someone’s coming!" Niamh shouted. Nuala gave her son's hand one last squeeze, and stood up to join Niamh at the water’s edge. Neasa clambered out, healthy and strong, albeit a bit disoriented - she had obviously been well-served by her father’s inheritance in this adventure. She hugged her sister tightly, and then gave Nuala a look of dazed wonder. 

"Aodh," Nuala whispered, the name catching in her throat. "Aodh - where is he?"

"Father is still looking for him," Neasa told her. Her young face was lined with worry. "He thinks there might be a cave down there, but it's too deep for us now that we're not fish..."

"Aodh doesn't swim as well as the rest of us," Niamh murmured, her voice cold and emotionless. "He... his gills aren't as strong..."

"Your father will find him," Nuala told her.

"How do you know? You haven't even _been_ with us all these years."

"I know your father." Nuala sat down at the edge, watching the surface of the water, waiting. "I know he won't give up while there's the slightest hope."

Niamh's lips tightened, and she shared a dark glance with Aedan and Neasa, but a splash toward the far side of the lake precluded whatever comment she'd been about to make.

"It's them! Father's got Aodh!" Alastar shouted. He hugged Aedan, then turned and hugged Neasa, too, who was laughing with giddy relief.

"He's got him," Niamh agreed in a quiet voice, "but he's not moving."

The whole family waited as Abe towed the limp form of Aodh to the shore, swimming as quickly as he could. Aedan and Alastar hurried back into the water to help pull their brother to shore, and then immediately set to compressing his chest and breathing into his mouth, while Abe looked on, clearly stunned. Nuala moved to his side, close enough that their shoulders touched, and slipped her hand into his. His skin, never warm, was colder than she’d ever felt it before, and his fingers trembled as they twined with hers. 

_I do not think..._

_Let them try_ , she thought. She could feel her own heartache reflected in Abraham, his desperation and his hopeless, frustrated guilt that he hadn't been fast enough, hadn't found the boy quickly enough to save him.

_He was trapped... he'd been in the rocks when he changed back. The gap he’d gotten into was too small for him to get out once he’d been changed back to his proper form._

_How...?_

Abe looked down at his hands. Even in the darkness Nuala saw that dark blue blood flowed freely from a multitude of scrapes and cuts on his hands and wrists. _I dug him out. It doesn't hurt_ , he added. The words were unnecessary since Nuala could feel all that he felt while they touched. In any case, they both knew the reprieve was only shock. It would hurt later. But not as much as watching Aedan finally sit back on his heels, tears coursing freely down his cheeks as he shook his head. Not as much as watching Neasa press her face into Niamh's shoulder, hiding herself from the sight of their brother's dead body. Not as much as seeing Niamh's jaw tighten and then set like stone, her eyes cold and distant, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Nuala shuddered and squeezed Abe's hand one last time, then released him and stepped forward into the circle their children had made around their sibling, and pulled off her dark blue cloak to cover the body. She stroked his pale blue cheek, and touched the scrapes and cuts on his shoulders and head and chest, and felt tears trying to close up her throat and drown her eyes. Then she felt a hand settle on her shoulder. She expected Abe, and was surprised to feel the familiar/unfamiliar mind of Alastar brushing against hers, welcoming and comforting and asking permission to share.

Of all her children, he was the one who most resembled her twin in appearance. Seeing him in the darkness of the cave, his pale blue skin seemed to bleach into white, and she could have been looking into her own memories at Nuada when he was still young and unmarred by war and hatred and pain.

 _I'm sorry_ she thought at him, and forced herself - against instinct - to open her mind to his exploration, showing him her guilt and her sorrow, and her shame at having missed so much of their lives. _I’m so sorry. I only wanted to avoid this..._

As much as he _looked_ like her brother, his mind was more like Abraham's - gentle and cautious, and far more compassionate than she deserved, Nuala thought. She wanted to beg their forgiveness, but even knowing how badly things had turned out, she could not regret her decision not to raise the children in the court. _I am sorry_ , she told him again. _Sorrier than you will ever know, unless you have children of your own. But I did only what seemed best to me at the time, for your futures._

Alastar nodded once, blinking at her with his strange, beautiful dark eyes. _Yes, Mother._

For a long time they all sat in silence around the body. Neasa cried quietly on her sister’s shoulder, while Niamh patted her back in a mechanical way, her expression frozen and stony, showing no feeling at all. Aedan, for his part, seemed unable to hold still. He paced for a while around the rocks, until Alastar threw the stone he’d been weighing back and forth in his hands into the water and grabbed him, pushing him down to the sand. 

“Would you just _sit_ , Aedan? Just _stop it_ for five minutes, will you? You’re driving me crazy!”

“It’s not my fault! I can’t just--I can’t just sit here and stare. Our brother’s dead!”

“Well, walking in circles sure as hell isn’t going to bring him back, is it?” Both brothers looked stricken as soon as the words were out of Alastar’s mouth. “I’m sorry...” Alastar began.

“No. You’re right, I just--”’

“Aedan. It’s fine. Don’t... just forget I said anything.” Alastar dropped to the rocks again, his head in his hands, and after a moment Aedan joined him, leaning his cheek on his brother’s shoulder. Silence fell around the cave once again, but for the occasional dripping of the water.

"And what about _him_?" Niamh's voice broke in, and even her siblings looked surprised to hear her voice so cold and hard. "Whatever-his-name-is - the one in the chains. He brought them all here. What are we going to do about him?"

"He killed Aodh." Abraham's voice was like ice shattering on a stone. "He murdered him. We’ll bring him back to the bureau with us--”

“No.” Nuala lifted her jaw and straightened, brushing leaves from her gown before she turned to face the rest of the family. Niamh and Abraham stood together, Aedan, Alastar and Neasa close by in another cluster. "He will pay for what he has done, I promise you. But in our way - my people’s way. Not the Humans’.”

"He killed our brother!" Niamh shouted. "Don't you care the tiniest bit about that?"

"Of course I do, and that’s why I won’t allow Nuada to be sent to the Humans. He is _my_ brother. My responsibility, the same as he has always been. Last time, that bond made me too yielding, too willing to see the possibilty that he might change, that the poison in his blood might be purged by other means..." She shook her head. "This time, I will do what I must to ensure that he can never harm any of you again. But you must let me do it our way."

This time, the hand that caught her shoulder _was_ Abraham’s, pulling her aside and out of hearing of the children. She sensed immediately that he was thinking of another time that she had taken action to stop her brother. “Nuala, you can't,” he said in a low tone. “We’ve already lost Aodh... they can't lose their mother in the same day. _I_ can't--”

“And they will not. You will not. Don’t worry, Abraham - death won’t be the answer this time. I’ve had time to think, to learn... and I know better, now. Only leave him to me.” 

“Let me come with you, then,” Abraham said softly. She was about to refuse him, remembering the vicious, boiling hatred in her twin’s mind when he thought of Abraham, but then he touched her cheek. In his mind, she felt the same desperate helplessness that she’d been fighting ever since the children disappeared, the same darkness and panic that flooded her mind when she thought of beautiful young Aodh laying cold and still on the rocks and the pit of guilt, the roots of gnawing knowledge that it all could have been prevented if only she’d taken more care, if only he had paid them more attention, if only, if only, if only...

And yet, that was not all. Even after thirteen years, raising five children alone and trying to do his duty for his Bureau at the same time, never once seeing her or hearing her voice, with only a few short letters... after all of that, he still loved her. _My noble Abraham... don’t worry. This time, I promise I will do the right thing. The right thing for all of us._

“Come with me, then," she agreed aloud. "But stay far away from him. He hates you, Abraham... more than I’ve ever known him to hate anything that isn’t Human. I know the chains will hold, but... I would rather not test them with this,” she added with a soft, sad smile. “The same goes for all of you," she added, raising her voice and turning to the children. "It’s your right to see, I suppose, but you must stay out of his reach. Out of his sight, if you can. But you may watch.”

Without looking back to see who followed, Nuala strode over to where her brother lay, still watched by the raven guard.

“Brother, we must talk.”

“What is it now? Are you pleased to have your fishy children returned to you?”

Rage and disgust twisted Nuala’s stomach. “One of them has died, Nuada. You killed him.”

“I did nothing of the sort. You were the one to demand their return from fish form.” He laughed, a low bitter sound. “But if it pleases you to blame me, who am I to refuse? Name my punishment, then, sister. Will you put me in another tree, for the Humans to release the instant their greed drives them to further destruction? Or will you give me to your lover’s masters, to keep in a box of iron and perform experiments on me whenever they grow curious about us? Only tell me now, for I grow bored of sitting here in the shadow of this carrion-eater.”

“I will not give you to the Humans," Nuala told him. "But neither will I allow you out of my control again. Too long I’ve let you hurt the things and people I love. No more.”

Nuada glared. “Then kill me, sister, for I cannot abide to see what you’ve done with yourself. Giving yourself to that pet of the Humans, siring your half-breed children and allowing them to be raised by our enemies--”

“Quiet.”

“If my tongue offends you, you have only to cut it out,” Nuada mocked.

“I can do better than that,” Nuala murmured. From out of her sash, she pulled a vial of amber glass - the same one in which Nuada had kept the powder he’d used to transform her children. She uncorked it, held it in front of her in one hand, and with the other she tugged on the end of the chain that bound her brother. The words she spoke in Gaelige were as old as the rocks around them, and carried the long power of her people. At the last word of the chant, there was a clap as if of distant thunder, followed immediately by the winking sparkle and sound of the silver chain falling to the ground. Nuala corked the vial quickly. It felt heavier than before, and oddly warm, but perhaps that was the effect of the dizzy sensation that was stealing over her. In all the long years of their her father’s self-imposed exile, Nuala had performed only the smallest magics - nothing that would draw the attention of powers outside their court, particularly to herself. Now twice in the last day she had cast spells of some complexity, and the sensation of it drained her. 

“Wait... that’s it?” Niamh sounded disappointed. 

Nuala tucked the glass into her dress. “I’ll find a safe place to keep him, when I go back to the court. He can’t get out on his own, now that I’ve sealed him, and I’ll make sure that all my people know not to open the vial should they come across it. 

“But--”

“It isn’t a satisfying revenge, is it? It isn’t what he would do.” She frowned for a moment, then shook her head. “But he will be powerless there, and unable to see the world and what happens in it. And he won’t ever be freed. I shall make sure of that.”

Abraham touched her arm. “Are you sure?” 

“It is our best solution. In any case, I am through thinking about my brother. We have greater concerns than him.”

Niamh looked as though she wanted to argue more, but then swallowed her protest when she saw that Nuala was looking back toward the blue-swathed figure on the rocks by the lake. “What will we do with him?” she asked softly.

“There is a place in the court, if you would all agree to that. With my father - your grandfather. He would be buried among the kings of our people, his ancestors.”

“He’d like that, I think,” Aedan said. Around him, the others nodded. Even Niamh seemed satisfied with the suggestion.

“Abraham...?”

“Yes. That will be fine.” If not for his words and his accompanying slow nod, she would have said that Abraham seemed not to have heard her. His eyes focused in the middle distance on nothing at all, as though he was watching something that wasn’t there, or listening to something happening only in his mind. She had a sensation he was seeing and hearing exactly what she was - everything that had happened in the past days, even weeks, and going over all of it in his mind to see if he could have done something different, if he could somehow have avoided what had happened if only he’d acted differently, spoken different words, been quicker or more clever or stronger. Nuala reached out to touch his hand, almost expecting him to pull away, and was relieved when he didn’t. What she saw was not a relief, however - over and over again she watched in his minds’ eye as he clawed at the rocks that held Aodh captive. Watched their son’s body fall limp from the stones when the last was pulled away to make a gap large enough for him. Saw that even then, Abraham had known it was too late - from the way the body floated, from the oddly buoyant, boneless movement of it in the water. 

_I don’t know if he drowned or was crushed. And I don’t know which would be worse._

He could no doubt sense her considering and discarding a number of possible responses to that, none of which seemed at all appropriate, or to express the horrible feelings that echoed through both of them. In the end Nuala gave up, broke their connection and turned to her last remaining guard. “Come. You must carry him.”

“ _No._ ” 

Nuala turned, confused by the vehemence in Abraham’s voice. “I thought you accepted that he be carried back to my court?”

“I do. But not by someone he didn’t even know. I’ll carry him.”

“It’s a long way...”

“We’ll help,” Alastar told her firmly. “Aedan and I can take our turns carrying him."

"Me, too." Niamh stepped up next to her brother. "He’s... he’s small. We’ll manage.”

The best that could be said of the court on that day was that it suited their little group's mood. After their silent trip through the tunnels and the market bearing Aodh’s silent body, Nuala led them to a gate of worn old wood on which could barely be seen a carving whose paint looked like it had worn off centuries before, which seemed to show the cracked and decaying figure of a tree. A bit of flaking gold-leaf clung still to the branches in places, but if it had ever looked like anything other the last, diseased scion of a dying forest, then Abe couldn’t see that in it now. Most of it was as bare and dead as a pile of old firewood, and twice as grey, excepting the parts blackened with some sort of rot or fungus. 

Together, alone but for the guards, they laid Aodh to rest with Nuala's father and the other honored dead of Bethmoora. In the time she had worked and waited for her children, Nuala had spent a fair amount of time down in the darkness there, in the dusty, honeyed-stone smell of the dry, golden bodies that crumbled slowly for want of life. Laid on the stones among the other figures, Aodh's blue skin seemed to shine like a jewel in moonlight. 

Long after they had all cried their tears and whispered their goodbyes, Abraham pulled Nuala aside while the children talked quietly among themselves. 

"If we can... if it would be possible..." He touched her hand. "I would like for us to stay here, tonight. I don't want to leave you here alone."

"I would not be alone. If you need to go back..."

"I don't. I've already called Liz and Hellboy to tell them what happened, and let them know that we might not be back at the Bureau tonight. Or, er, perhaps for rather longer than that."

A strange, bitter-sweet hope kindled in Nuala's heart. "And your work?"

"They'll manage without me. It's been so long... And the children need their mother, now more than ever. If you'll have us, that is. I know you have duties--"

She stopped him with a fingertip on his lips. "Right now, I have no duty greater than caring for them. And for you."

"I..."

"Abraham, I know your mind. If you tell me that you do not need care right now--"

"No more than you." 

Nuala gave a faint smile. "Then we shall all have to care for each other. Have you asked the children their opinion of staying?"

"Staying here?" Neasa seemed to appear at their side, her eyes wide in wonder. "Really? For how long?"

Nuala glanced at Abraham, who inclined his head to her - it was, he seemed to say, her kingdom and her court in which they would be guests. "As long as you wish," Nuala told her. "But I must warn you that time is sometimes fickle here, and often refuses to match to the time that passes in the Human world."

"Uncle Red and Aunt Liz will be pissed if we're away for thirteen years," Niamh put in. "And we'd get back and still be thirteen, but the twins would be twenty-six!" The other children looked appalled at this thought. 

"We won't stay that long," Abraham promised them. "Not at one stretch. I've asked Hellboy and Liz to call us on my radio after three months have passed. That way we don't have to worry. Is that acceptable to all of you?"

To Nuala's pleased surprise, even Niamh gave this a slow nod of approval. After that, the work of living details occupied Nuala for some time - the rest of the guards had to be notified of the court's new guests, and the Chamberlain ordered to arrange rooms for four youths rather than the infants that she had imagined bringing back to her court. To his credit, the Chamberlain's sack-like countenance hardly reacted when she explained to him that the strange young creatures she was hosting in the court were, in fact, her children. He seemed, at worst, insulted that she had not told him of them before, and made a low bow to Abraham as he puttered off to be about his duties.

"This place," Niamh announced as the tall figure passed out of range of hearing, "is really weird."

"Weirder than the Bureau?" Alastar pointed out with a wry smile. The four watched as a trio of trolls lumbered by, followed by a small cluster of elves who regarded the children with cool curiosity. 

"Maybe not," Niamh admitted. 

_They might rule this one day_ , Nuala thought as Abraham took her hand. _If they are willing, and if the kingdom persists long enough._

He seemed somewhat unnerved by this. _Don't tell them that, please._

Nuala smiled, watching Neasa hurry ahead of her siblings to peer into a dark side-passage of the hallway they were walking down. _I won't. It would ruin the joy they might take in learning about it and our ways. And I don't mean to leave it to them for a long time yet. But why...?_

_They're teenagers now._

_Meaning...?_

Abraham's gills fluttered, and Nuala could feel that he was embarrassed. _Meaning that, judging from human example, they will be insufferable enough for the next few years without knowing that they will one day rule a whole kingdom._


End file.
